


Love Comes to Kembleford

by TheOnlySongintheForest



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Adoption, Catholicism, Crime, Deaf Character, F/M, Father Brown - Freeform, Kembleford, Niece, Original Character(s), Period Accurate, Sibling Incest, Slow Build, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-09-30 21:47:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 27,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20454044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlySongintheForest/pseuds/TheOnlySongintheForest
Summary: Father Brown's niece arrives in Kembleford. She's warned against the wiles of town troublemaker Sid Carter, but that doesn't stop the two from drawing closer together.





	1. An Unexpected Letter

**Author's Note:**

> *Apparently AO3's indentation is above my abilities so I apologize for the multiplicity of double spaces.  
*I do my best to remain accurate to both the time period and Roman Catholicism. If there are errors, I encourage helpful notes.  
*Yes, I know Father Brown has a disputed first name, but I had to give him something, and it doesn't come up very often  
*Sort of slow build. Hopefully worth the wait :)  
**Okay, bit slower of a build than I was anticipating originally. I have years planned out for these characters so, for anyone who sticks with me to the end, you have my love and thanks! <3

Bridgette McCarthy bustled into the presbytery kitchen. “Father Brown, you must go through these letters today. You can’t keep putting it off you know.”  
  
The priest in question, Father John Brown of the Kembleford parish, looked up from his morning cup of tea. He smiled at her. “Where would I be without you, Mrs. McCarthy?”  
  
“I don’t know about you,” she answered, pouring herself a cup of tea, “but the parish would be in ruins.”  
  
Father Brown shuffled through the various envelopes, his keen eyes scanning for anything remotely interesting. A pale blue bit of stationary stood out, it’s return address marked Bath. The Father only knew one person there.  
  
He tore open the seal and scanned its contents.  
  
Mrs. McCarthy noticed his troubled expressions. “What’s wrong Father?”  
  
“Mrs. McCarthy,” Father Brown stood abruptly, “will you please phone the station and inquire as to when the next train to Bath will be leaving?” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and scrambled up the stairs.  
  
At the same moment, the door creaked open, admitting Lady Felicia Montague and her chauffeur, Sid Carter. “Where’s he off to in such a hurry?” Sid dropped himself into a chair and threw his feet up on the weathered table.  
  
“I haven’t the foggiest!” Mrs. McCarthy replied.  
  
Lady Felicia lifted the discarded piece of paper. “Might this have something to do with it?” Her eyes scanned it quickly and she uttered a breathless, “Oh no.”  
  
“Well, what is it, what does it say?”  
  
“Dear Uncle John,” she began to read, “I know it’s been a very long time since I’ve seen you. As you know, Daddy wasn’t very keen on church. I have missed you greatly though, and I’m sorry to inform you that your brother, my father, has passed away. He was very ill for quite some time, and although I’m loathe to admit, I am happy to see him out of pain. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, this makes you my only living relative. If it’s not too much trouble, I would love to see you again, and to make amends for my father’s mistakes.  
  
Your loving niece,  
  
Leah Brown


	2. A Visit to Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father Brown visits his niece

Father Brown gathered his suitcase, his hat, and his trusty umbrella as the train steamed into the Bath station. The thought crossed his mind, not for the first time, that he might not recognise his brother’s daughter. She was just ten last time he saw her, all skinned knees and pigtails. Her father had become disillusioned when her mother was killed during an air raid. He barred his religious brother from visiting the family ever again. That was ten years ago.  
  
He needn’t have worried though. As soon as he stepped from the train he spotted a young lady waving at him. Her black hair was tied back in the severe style of screen star Audrey Hepburn, and she wore bright red capri pants. She looked in every way a simply grown version of her younger self.  
  
“Uncle! Uncle!” The girl rocked onto her toes, shouting and waving at the priest.  
  
“Leah, my dear,” Father Brown set down his suitcase and wrapped her in a warm hug. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.”  
  
“I wish it was under happier circumstances, but I’m glad to see you too.” Leah picked up her uncle’s suitcase and linked arms with him as they walked away from the station.  
  
“How are you handling your father’s death?”  
  
She studied the ground for a moment. “I’m devastated of course. He was my only family for so many years. But...”  
  
Father Brown knew his brother and suspected what she was going to say.  
  
“Daddy always wanted me to be his little girl. I never got to make any choices of my own. He kept me from attending Mass, even though Mother wanted me to stay Catholic. It’s a bit freeing to be on my own, but also quite...frightening.”  
  
“Is that why you wrote to me?”  
  
They had arrived at a small townhouse, one of many lined up like brick soldiers along the cobblestone road.  
  
“I suppose.” Leah pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked the door. “Even though the house is small, it’s been quite lonely.”  
  
Father Brown responded with silence. He understood the girl’s pain. Losing first his parents, his sister-in-law, and now his brother, he too was alone except for the young lady he barely knew.  
  
Leah set her uncle’s suitcase in the small, shabby kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”  
  
“Actually, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to see him.”  
  
She nodded.  
  
Together they walked arm in arm down the streets of the ancient city. They paused at a florist’s cart where the Father purchased a small bouquet of lilies.  
  
“He’s buried here,” she remarked as they approached the small building housing St. Luke’s Church. “I hope he forgives me for giving him a proper Catholic ceremony.”  
  
Father Brown smiled at the girl’s good humour. “Was he able to make confession before…?”  
  
Leah shook her head.  
  
“Then we will pray for his soul.”  
  
They arrived at the simple wooden cross bearing a small plaque. It read: James Brown, Beloved Husband, Father, Brother.  
  
Father Brown made the sign of the cross and began his prayers. Leah crossed herself as well then stood respectfully, hands clasped and eyes downcast.  
  
When he finished, Father Brown looked up with a small smile. “I’m honoured to have been included on the memorial.”  
  
Leah took his hand. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re part of our family and always have been.” Father Brown gave her hand a warm squeeze.  
  
Rites finished, they turned for their journey back.  
  
“What will you do now?” Father Brown asked.  
  
“I’m not sure. Daddy left me enough for rent and food for a few months. I’ll have to find a job of course, but I don’t have any employable skills. He let me work a couple of days a week at the register in the shop he managed. The only thing he really encouraged me in though was my writing. I guess he preferred me being cooped up in the attic instead of out on the town.”  
  
Father Brown pursed his lips. He allowed a few beats of silence, then said, “Leah, why don’t you come to Kembleford? It’s not quite as exciting as a big city like Bath, but there are plenty of good people. There’s an extra room in the presbytery, and I’m sure Mrs. McCarthy, our parish secretary, would love a helping hand.”  
  
“Uncle, would you really mind me coming with you?”  
  
“I would be delighted my dear.”  
  
That evening Father Brown was on the phone with Mrs. McCarthy. “Mrs. M, prepare the spare room. Leah’s coming home.”


	3. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leah arrives in Kembleford

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one. I forgot how hard fiction is, lol.

The train slid into the Kembleford station, depositing a few errant travellers, along with the Father and his niece. A man leaned casually against the wall, a diminishing cigarette dangling from his fingers. His uniform caught Leah’s eye. A dark green double-breasted suit, the top two buttons open with a sense of carelessness, and a pair of polished black boots completed the lean figure. She was surprised when Father Brown called out to him.  
  
“Sid! Good of you to pick us up.”  
  
“Well, you know Lady F. Always willing to lend someone else’s helping hand. Hello. Is this your niece?” Sid’s eyes lit on Leah as he flicked out his cigarette.  
  
“Leah Brown. Pleased to meet you.”  
  
Sid took her outstretched hand and, rather than shake it, lifted it gently to his lips. “Believe me, the pleasure’s all mine.”  
  
The blush that spread across Leah’s cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by the Father. “Sid, will you get Leah’s trunk for her? I’m sure we can find the car ourselves.”  
  
“Sure thing Father.” Sid tipped his cap and hurried down the platform.  
  
Father Brown opened his mouth to speak to Leah about the exchange he had witnessed, then closed it firmly. Though Sid had a certain reputation among the young ladies in town, Father Brown knew he had a good heart. Perhaps his niece would see it too, given a chance.  
  
Settled into the sedan and on their way to the presbytery, Leah spoke up to their driver. “Sid, Uncle tells me you’ve been his right hand man on many of his investigations.”  
  
“Is that right?” Sid glanced at them in the rear view mirror. “Did you really call me your right hand man Father?”  
  
“Ah I, uh, may have said something like that.”  
  
“And what else has the Father told you about his ‘investigations’?”  
  
“Well, he says that it’s his job to look after all aspects of his flock’s lives. And I’m sure his efforts help relieve the workload of the local constabulary. After all, it seems like Kembleford has an unusually high number of crimes for such a small town.”  
  
Father Brown smiled. “Funny how that seems to work out.”  
  
They pulled up to the presbytery, tires crunching on gravel. Sid jumped out to open the door for the Father and his niece, but Leah quickly slid out the opposite. Her eyes widened when she saw Sid’s surprised face over the hood of the car.  
  
“Oh no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. I’m just not used to other people doing things for me.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Sid shook it off. “See you in the house. Think you’ll enjoy it.” He winked.  
  
“Come along, dear.” Father Brown took Leah by the elbow and guided her toward the small house.  
  
“Surprise!”  
  
As the door swung open, Mrs. McCarthy and Lady Felicia leaped up from their chairs.  
  
Leah’s face lit up. “Is this all for me?” She slowly spun around, taking in the “Welcome” banner, the festive bunting, and a beautifully iced cake crowning the table.  
  
“Of course it is, dear.” Mrs. McCarthy rushed to embrace her. “You’re Father Brown’s family.”  
  
“Which means you’re our family too,” Lady Felicia smiled.  
  
Cake was sliced and handed out, along with tea and local gossip from the women.  
  
“Leah, dear,” Mrs. McCarthy reached for the girl’s hand at a lull in the conversation. “I know Father Brown told you I’d be needing help in the parish, but the truth is, there’s barely enough work for me as it is.”  
  
Father Brown and Lady Felicia exchanged arched glances.  
  
“But never fear,” Mrs. McCarthy continued, “I’ve found you a lovely job with Mrs. Parker at the sweets shop.”  
  
“Oh, Mrs. McCarthy, that sounds wonderful. I’m so grateful to all of you for such a warm welcome.” Leah’s gaze swept around the table, taking in her new family. When she met eyes with Sid, she blushed and looked away. “If it’s alright, I think I’ll retire for the evening. I look forward to seeing you all in the morning.”


	4. Murder..?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leah is attacked on her way home and a damning piece of evidence is left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave kudos and/or comments. And enjoy!

Leah’s job at the shop started well. She found Mrs. Parker to be a kind woman, and her work sorting candies and sweets was never dull. In the afternoons the schoolchildren would flood the small shop floor, chattering about their favourite treats. She enjoyed getting to know their names and personalities, growing her small connection to the people of her new home.  
  
One day the bell over the front door rang. It was mid-morning, a typically slow time at the shop, and Leah was busy stocking a new arrival of peppermints along the back wall. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” she called over her shoulder.  
  
“Take your time,” came the lazed reply.  
  
Leah’s spine stiffened. She recognised that drawl.  
  
“Sid. So nice to see you. What brings you in today?” She turned to greet him, unconsciously tugging at her apron. He must have been off-duty, as he wore a soft blue plaid shirt and worn black pants held up by suspenders that had seen better days. A pork pie hat was shoved back on his head.  
  
“Oh you know,” he leaned against the barrel containing the caramels, “just looking for something sweet.”  
  
Something about the confident and causal air he exuded set Leah on edge. She tugged once more at her apron then picked up a rag to start wiping the already clean counter. “Well, as you can see, we have a wide variety of….”  
  
“What do you recommend?” A wolfish smile came over his face.  
  
Leah grabbed the nearest package without thinking. She looked down. It was a red, heart-shaped box with cherry cream chocolates inside. She smiled and proffered it. “Perfect for your sweetheart?”  
  
“Don’t have one.” He smiled even wider.  
  
“Well, then, there’s no rule against eating it yourself. Just try not to get sick on it.”  
  
“I’ll do my best.” As Sid leaned over the counter, a silver medallion slipped from its discreet position beneath his shirt and dangled from his neck. Leah squinted at it. “St. Martin? I wouldn’t have pegged you as a member of the faith.”  
  
Sid coughed, stood, and tucked the medal back. “I’m not. It belonged to Father Brown. During the war. He gave it to me.”  
  
She didn’t know how to respond to this. A potential family heirloom had been passed into the hands of an errand boy? She forced a smile. “Fifty pence.”  
  
Sid dropped the coins in her hand and left without another word.

  
  


Leah turned the sign in the shop window from “Open” to “Closed.” Mrs. Parker had allowed her to lock up the last few nights, and she took the responsibility seriously. She checked lock on the door and cash register, slipped the key into the pocket of her slacks, and slipped out the back.  
  
The sweets shop was one of a row of stores that all backed into a connecting alleyway. Store owners often used it as a route for deliveries and as storage for crates and barrels that had outlived their day. On this day, Mr. Long, the butcher, was also closing shop at the far end of the lane. Opposite him, directly in Leah’s path, a group of young men (wealthy young men judging from their clothes) loitered on the discarded containers.  
  
Nervous about walking through the group of men, Leah watched Mr. Long pocket his key and turn the other direction. She thought about following him, asking for an escort home, but she didn’t want to appear a silly, helpless child. Tugging her coat tight against her body, she turned and strode down the alley.  
  
A low whistle heralded her approach. “Going my way, doll?”  
  
Leah ignored them, but quickened her step.  
  
“Oi.” The tallest peeled himself from the group, directly blocking Leah’s route. “My mate asked you a question. Now be a good girl and answer him.”  
  
Leah’s eyes darted around the circle of men now closing around her. She spun on her heel, ready to run out the alley’s other end. A hand shot out and snagged her coat.  
  
“Come on, girlie. It’s just a little fun.”  
  
“No! No, stop!”  
  
Rough hands slid down her pants, while another groped her breasts. A pair of chapped lips grazed her neck.  
  
“I said stop!” In a burst of energy, Leah yanked her arms free and shoved the closest man she could reach.  
  
As he stumbled back, a crate caught him behind the knees, sending him tumbling to the ground. A trickle of blood ran from a small cut along his temple as he groaned and rolled over. The rest of his friends backed off, startled by the fall of their leader.  
  
Leah lost no time. She leaped over her fallen assailant and sprinted into the streets. She ran blindly, tears and dishevelled hair blurring her vision. Turning a corner, she collided with another male figure. “Let me go! Let me go!” She beat her fists against his chest.  
  
“Leah! Leah, stop, it’s me!” He gave her a gentle shake.  
  
She blinked and glanced up at the man. It was Sid.  
  
“Oh, Sid, Sid.”  
  
“What happened, Leah?”  
  
“There were these men. Behind the alley. They, they….”  
  
Sid nodded. “Look, you go find Father Brown. I’ll get the Inspector. Hey, listen,” he lifted her chin, “everything’s going to be okay.”  
  
She nodded.  
They parted ways, and Leah continued on to the presbytery. She slammed the door open. “Uncle! Mrs. McCarthy!”  
  
“Whatever’s the matter, dear? You look like you’ve been through, well, you know.” Mrs. McCarthy rushed to the girl.  
  
“I have, Mrs. McCarthy. I, I was attacked.”  
  
“Where did this happen, Leah?” Father Brown gently cradled her elbow.  
  
“In the alley behind the shop.”  
  
“We’ll have to alert the Inspector,” he said.  
  
“Sid’s already on his way.”  
  
“Good. Then we’ll meet them there.”  
  
The three walked briskly back through the town. They knew they had arrived when they saw the police vehicles converged at the mouth of the narrow back street. As they approached, they watched as Inspector Sullivan’s right hand man, Sargent Goodfellow, pulled Sid’s arms behind his back and clapped on a pair of handcuffs.  
  
“What exactly is going on here?” Mrs. McCarthy’s Irish lilt took on an irritated tone.  
  
Sullivan rolled his eyes when he saw the trio.“I should’ve known you’d show up sooner or later.” He looked Leah up and down. “And who’s this? A new recruit for your little ‘gang’?”  
  
Father Brown smiled. “This is my niece, Leah.”  
  
The Inspector’s face froze in shock. “My God. There’s two of them.”  
  
Father Brown chose to ignore the comment. “What is it you’re doing here? And what does Sid have to do with it?”  
  
“Well, if you haven’t noticed, Father Brown, I happen to the inspector of this territory, and that means homicides fall under my list of duties. This man is a person of interest.”  
  
“Homicide! But Uncle -”  
  
Father Brown held up his hand, preventing Leah from saying anything potentially incriminating. “May I ask who the poor soul is?”  
  
“And why is that any of your concern?”  
  
“Perhaps he’s one of my congregation. In that case he’ll be needing Last Rites.”  
  
The Inspector flipped open his notebook with more aggression than needed. “Preliminary identification suggests he’s Harold Langley.”  
  
Mrs. McCarthy gasped. “Not the son of Henry Langley? The business tycoon?”  
  
“’Fraid so. He one of yours?”  
  
Father Brown adjusted his spectacles. “No, but he is still one of the Lord’s. How did he die?”  
  
The Inspector narrowed his gaze at Leah once more. “Hold up. What did you say your name was?”  
  
“It’s Leah, Leah Brown, sir.”  
  
“Constable,” Sullivan waved to one of his men who approached with a paper evidence bag. “Young lady, do you recognise this?” He pulled out a pocket knife smeared with blood. It’s wooden handle was carved with the initials L.B.  
  
“But that’s the knife my father gave me. On my thirteenth birthday. How did you get it?”  
  
“It was found lodged in the chest of the young man in the alley. Leah Brown, I’m taking you in for the murder of Harold Langley.”  
  
“Uncle! No!” Leah cried out as the Inspector dragged her to the waiting police car.  
  
“Don’t worry, dear!” Mrs. McCarthy yelled. “Your uncle will have you out in no time!”  
  
Sullivan nodded to the Sargent. “Bring Carter along too. I’ll want to question them both.”  
  
Goodfellow nodded, then shuffled Sid into the other car. Both drove off to the police station.


	5. Father Brown Investigates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father Brown and the gang learn more about the victim, Harold Langley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edited ending to make departure less abrupt

Leah squinted in the bright light of the table lamp in the otherwise dark room. The Inspector was circling her, a file gripped in his hand. “So let me get this straight. You were attacked. You fought back – a natural response. But then you ran away without exacting revenge on the man who attacked you?”  
  
“I told you, there were at least five of them.”  
  
“So far, we have no evidence that anyone, beside you and Harold, were in that alley.”  
  
“You think one man did this!” Leah jumped from her seat. Her hair had been pulled loose from her pony tail. Her shirt was torn. A purple bruise was blooming on her neck.  
  
Inspector Sullivan leaned over the table. “I’ve seen one man do a lot worse.”  
  
Leah’s lip began to tremble, then she collapsed back into her chair, sobbing. “I, I want to make a confession.”  
  
“That’s more like it.” Sullivan grabbed his pen and opened his notebook.  
  
Leah shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. “No. To my uncle.”  
  
She was ushered back to her cell, a cold, blue room. Her uncle quickly followed. Sargent Goodfellow gave them a nod, then locked the door.  
  
“Forgive me, Father,” Leah said, “but I have not sinned.”  
  
“I know you haven’t. Just tell me, what was happening as you ran away?”  
  
“I had pushed the one man. Harold, I suppose. The others were all just standing around. I guess they probably ran out the back way.”  
  
“How do you suppose one of them got a hold of your knife?”  
  
Leah shrugged. “They, they had their hands all over me. It probably would’ve been easy enough to...”  
  
“I understand. Did you recognise any of them?”  
  
She shook her head.  
  
“Not surprising,” Father Brown remarked. “You’ve been here such a short time.” Then he turned and grasped her hand. “Leah, I promise you, no matter what, I will get you out of here. And we will find the real killer and bring him to justice.”  
  
She gently placed her hand on his cheek. “I know you will, Uncle. I trust you.”  
  
Father Brown kissed her forehead and stood to leave. Just as he reached the door though, Lead called out. “Wait, Uncle! There was something I noticed. All of the men looked wealthy, clean shirts, expensive shoes, gold watches. But there was one. His clothes were dirty, and his hands were...rough.”  
  
“Did you happen to get a look at his face?”  
  
“No. Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be. You may have just given us an excellent clue. Goodbye, my dear.”  
  
As Father Brown approached the station’s front desk, he could hear Lady Felicia’s shrill demands to the Sargent.  
  
“You must let Sid go at once! He’s done nothing wrong. If anything, he did you a favour, alerting you to crime in the city.”  
  
“Lady Felicia,” Father Brown smiled. “What a pleasant surprise.”  
  
“Father Brown. Sid called me from here. No surprise, him being in trouble again. But when Mrs. McCarthy called to say what had happened to Leah, well I just had to have Hornsby drive me in. How are you holding up?”  
  
With the same smile, Father Brown replied. “I know Leah is innocent. And I know the Lord will give me the wisdom and strength to catch the true culprit.”  
  
Inspector Sullivan leaned out of his office. “Maybe your God should give you the wisdom to leave things to the professionals. Sargent, you can let the delinquent go. We’ve got nothing to hold him on.”  
  
With Sid released, the four friends gathered outside. No worse for the wear, Sid clapped his hands together. “All right, Father. Where do we start?”  
  
“Right. Lady Felicia, Mrs. McCarthy, I’d like you to pay a visit to the boy’s family. Find out what you can about him. Who his friends were and if he had any enemies.”  
  
“You can count us!” Mrs. McCarthy declared.  
  
“And Sid, you and I are going to pay a visit to Dr. Mosden. We’ll all reconvene at the scene of the crime.”  
  
Dr. Mosden was the coroner for the surrounding area. His office was a short drive away in the town of Cirencester. Sid took them in Lady Felicia’s car, dropping Hornsby off at the Red Lion.  
  
“Always gives me the creeps, this place.” Sid opened the door for the Father.  
  
“Nonsense. Dr. Mosden’s work is essential to the efforts of crime-fighting.”  
  
“Don’t mean I like it anymore.”  
  
The bell above the front door rang as they entered. “Dr. Mosden? Are you in?”  
  
“Yes, who – why, Father Brown!” The small man shoved his spectacles on to his balding head. He wiped his hands on his apron, smearing what Sid could only hope wasn’t blood. “What brings you to my, ah, place of business?”  
  
“Well, we were wondering if we could get a look at the body of Harold Langley?”  
  
“Father. You know it’s not protocol to let anyone in the examination room.”  
  
“And I respect that, but, you see, it’s my niece who’s been excused of the murder.”  
  
“Well. That does put a different light on things. Who’s this with you though?” He gestured at Sid with the scalpel in his hand.  
  
“I can assure you,” Father Brown smiled, “he’s a trustworthy character.”  
  
“All right then. Follow me.” Dr. Mosden led the way into the basement of the building, where the morgue was located.  
  
Sid shivered. “Like an iceberg in here.”  
  
The doctor smiled. “We have a saying in the business. ‘Hot brings rot.’”  
  
“Is this the body?” Father Brown stepped in before Sid could comment on the strange motto.  
  
“Yes. Cause of death was a stab wound to the abdomen. Now, I haven’t seen your niece, but unless she’s unusually strong… well, I just find it hard to believe a woman could have done this.”  
  
“Because of the violence?” Sid asked.  
  
“There is that. But – I have the weapon here.” With gloved hands the doctor held up the weapon for the others to see. “This knife blood everywhere, not just the blade. A quick stab with a blade this length probably wouldn’t have killed him. But even the hilt was thrust into the wound. It was inevitable that a vital organ would be hit.”  
  
“So someone with a lot of power?” Sid asked again.  
  
“Or a lot of anger….” Father Brown had wandered over to examine the body more closely. “And this blow to his head? Could it have contributed at all to his death?”  
  
Dr. Mosden scoffed. “That little thing? Might have given him a proper headache the next day, but nothing worse than a hangover.”  
  
“Thank you,” Father Brown smiled. “I think we have all we need.”

  
  


The ladies were having a bit more difficulty at the Langley estate. The butler stood blocking their entrance to the grand limestone mansion.  
  
“This is urgent business. From Father Brown.” Mrs. McCarthy bristled against the obstruction.  
  
“What my friend means to say,” Lady Felicia interjected, “is that we’re here on behalf of the parish to offer our condolences for the Langleys’ terrible loss.”  
  
The butler looked them up and down once more, then stood back, admitting entrance. “You’ll find Mr. and Mrs. Langley in the drawing room.”  
  
“Let me do the talking,” Felicia whispered to Mrs. McCarthy as they found their way to the opulent front room. The décor was gaudy in its display of wealth. Statues and trophies crowded every available surface and the velvet settees clashed terribly with the satin curtains. Lady Felicia bit her tongue to avoid a remark about “new money.” Instead she extended her hand to the man smoking a cigar in the middle of the room. “Lady Felicia Montague. Mrs. McCarthy, the parish secretary,” she gestured to her friend. “I’m so sorry to hear about your loss.”  
  
Henry Langley raised a quizzical brow. “I’m grateful, of course. But how did you two learn about it so quickly?”  
  
“We, uh, have connections within the constabulary.”  
  
“I see. Well, please, have a seat. This is my wife, Grace.”  
  
“We heard,” Lady Felicia began delicately, “that your son was with a number of friends when he passed. He must have been very popular.”  
  
“Passed!” Langley punctuated his exclamation with the snubbing of his cigar. “My son was brutally stabbed in a back alley. No one was there except that filthy girl.”  
  
“Now see here!” Mrs. McCarthy began to rise from her seat before Felicia laid a hand on her arm. When Langley looked at her expectantly, she mildly said, “What I mean is, the police haven’t charged anyone yet. The real killer could still be out there.”  
  
“They caught that hussy red-handed, and I’ll see her hanged or be damned trying. You ladies can see yourselves out.” Langley stormed from the room.  
  
Lady Felicia and Mrs. McCarthy exchanged surprised glances. They stood to go, but Grace Langley spoke up. “Wait.” She tucked a platinum curl behind her ear. “Harold….he was a good boy at heart. But his friends….I always knew they’d get him in trouble.”  
  
Lady Felicia leaned forward. “Mrs. Langley, did Harold have any close friends in particular? Or maybe an enemy? Someone he’d upset or scorned?”  
  
Grace shook her head. “He’s been spending so much time out of the house lately, I hardly ever saw him any more. I should’ve paid more attention, should have been more present….” Her voice broke as she crumbled into sobs.  
  
“There, there, dear,” Mrs. McCarthy wrapped her arms around the woman’s shoulder. “I’m sure you did the best you could.”

  
  


The wan light of the summer evening was all but gone from the sky when the group of four met again beside the alley. Lady Felicia placed a gently hand on the priest’s shoulder. “Father, I hate to say it, but I’m not sure there’s much else we can accomplish tonight. I hate to think of that poor girl locked up overnight, but….”  
  
“No, you’re right Lady Felicia. We’re spent for the night. But our search begins again in the morning.” He paused. “I’m going to stand vigil tonight, outside Leah’s cell, and pray for her release.”  
  
“Hold on,” Sid said, “if you’re going to be there, I want to be too. I saw her earlier that day. Feel like I owe her something for not being there.”  
  
Father Brown knew he wouldn’t be able to change the young man’s mind. “Very well then. We’ll see you ladies in the morning.


	6. Rear Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation continues with help from an eyewitness

When Sid awoke the next morning on the hard bench outside Leah’s cell, he found himself alone. “Father Brown? Father?”  
  
“Sid? Are you awake?” Leah’s voice was faint through the steel door.  
  
Sid opened the small window that allowed him to peer into the cell. “Leah, you alright?”  
  
“Yes, I’m fine.” She knelt by the door to speak to him. “My uncle wanted me to tell you he went back to the alley to look for clues.”  
  
“Right. I’ll meet him there.”  
  
“Sid, be careful. Whoever did this….”  
  
“I know.” Sid paused, then slipped his hand through the window. Leah squeezed it quickly. Then he turned and left the station. On his way to the alley, he met Lady Felicia and Mrs. McCarthy and the three of them walked together.  
  
“What do you suppose the Father’s been up to this early in the morning?” Mrs. McCarthy asked.  
  
“I don’t know, but you can bet it’s important,” Sid replied.  
  
Father Brown was on his knees, shuffling on the ground when they arrived.  
  
“Father, what are you doing down there? You’ll ruin your cassock.” Mrs. McCarthy admonished.  
  
The priest lifted himself up with the help of a nearby crate. “Good morning Mrs. McCarthy. Sid, Lady Felicia.”  
  
“Good morning, Father,” Felicia replied. “Although I must say Mrs. M has a good point. What are you doing?”  
  
“Investigating the scene of the crime. Look here.” Father Brown used his umbrella to point to a tiny splash of dark spots on the cobblestone.  
  
“That blood?” Sid asked.  
  
“Indeed. The inconsequential amount produced when Leah pushed Harold. But over here,” Father Brown moved a few yards down the line of the stone wall, “there is much more blood.”  
  
“I’d say,” Lady Felicia shied away from the copious amount of blood dripping down to puddle in the lane.  
  
“I’m sure Leah can hold her own when it comes to lifting things, but a six foot man as dead weight would be difficult for anyone.”  
  
“Not to mention,” Mrs. McCarthy chimed in, “she didn’t have a drop of blood on her clothes. I can just imagine the mess this would’ve made.”  
  
Sid placed his hands on his hips. “So that’s it then. We’ve got enough evidence to get Leah out.”  
  
“Perhaps.” Father Brown seemed unsure. “I’m afraid though, that the Inspector will require an alternative suspect. It would not do for him to have wasted time on a red herring.”  
  
“And just where do you propose we find one of those? Could we substitute Sid?”  
  
“Oi! Watch it Mrs. M.”  
  
“Actually, I think we’ll be receiving help from on high.” Father Brown smiled and pointed his umbrella to a window on the only two-storey house behind the alley.

  
  


Everyone was surprised when the door to the house opened to reveal a little red-headed boy.  
  
He sniffed and wiped his hand across his nose. “You here to see my mum?”  
  
The four exchanged glances. Mrs. McCarthy bowed to his level. “Yes, we are young man. Is she here at the moment?”  
  
“’Course she is. Where’d you think she’d be? Mum!” He called over his shoulder into the house. “Some people here!”  
  
“Send them in, Charlie,” came the faint reply.  
  
Following the sound of the voice, they made their way up a narrow staircase to an attic converted into a bedroom. A small, pale woman was ensconced in a wheelchair, her leg bound up in a sturdy cast and propped up on a window seat. “I wasn’t expecting visitors,” she said.  
  
“Well, uh, Mrs…..”  
  
“Hughes.”  
  
“Mrs. Hughes. I’m so sorry to disturb you,” Father Brown removed his hat, “it’s just that we have a few questions about something you may have seen yesterday.”  
  
She quickly looked away.  
  
“May we?” The Father indicated the few chairs in the room. When the woman hesitated, he said, “My sincerest apologies. I’m Father Brown. These are my friends, Lady Felicia Montague, Mrs. McCarthy, and Sidney Carter. We’re from St. Mary’s, and we’re trying to clear an innocent girl. My niece.”  
  
Mrs. Hughes was silent, then gestured to the chairs.  
  
“What happened to your leg?” Felicia asked.  
  
The woman didn’t meet her eye. “Fell down the stairs.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“Mrs. Hughes,” Father Brown picked up, “we noticed that your house seems to be the only one along this row with a view of the alley behind.”  
  
“Like that new picture with Jimmy Stewart,” Mrs. McCarthy piped up. “Such a nice man.” There were a few confused looks in Mrs. McCarthy’s direction. “Well it was just like this. He broke his leg and looked out his back window and saw a murder. Grace Kelly helped him solve it. Like I do with Father Brown.”  
  
There was an awkward silence, then Mrs. Hughes asked, “Why should I care?”  
  
Sid leaned forward. “A man was murdered there yesterday, and an innocent girl is facing a hanging.”  
  
“What Sid means,” Felicia spoke up, “is that we’d be so grateful if you could tell about anything you saw yesterday.”  
  
The woman stared out the window, as though seeing again the crime she had witnessed. “It was yesterday, after the shops closed. There were some men at the end of the alley. They had cigarettes and they were drinking. I saw that new girl from the candy shop lock up and leave. I wanted to warn her somehow; I knew those boys would be trouble. Sure enough, they ganged up on her. Poor girl. Then I saw her push one of them and run off….”  
  
“What happened then?” Father Brown prompted. “What did the boys do after she ran away?”  
  
“They sort of, scattered. Except the one who fell and one other. He put his hand out, asking for help, I suppose. The other boy leaned down and then….then he ran off. He left his friend there, just lying in an alley.”  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
Lady Felicia leaned forward. “Did you recognise the young man? The one who ran off?”  
  
Mrs. Hughes nodded. “It was Sam Jenkins. His father does some handiwork around town. They live in the old filling station at the edge of town.”  
  
“I understand this must have been difficult, Mrs. Hughes,” the Father gently placed his hand over that of the woman’s, “but we are so very thankful for your help.”  
  
They rose and turned to leave the room. “Father,” Mrs. Hughes called out, “I hope that your niece is okay.”  
  
He smiled. “She will be.”

  
  


Once outside, the four gathered around. “Well, I think it’s clear what we need to do.”  
  
“Father, you are not going out there by yourself,” Mrs. McCarthy declared.  
  
“Of course, not. I’ll be bringing Sid. I want you and Lady Felicia to stay with Leah at the station. If we’re not back in a few hours, bring the Inspector around.”  
  
“I don’t like this,” Lady Felicia muttered.  
  
“Don’t worry, Lady F. Me and the Father’ll get to the bottom of this,” Sid assured her.  
  
“Well, I hope so. For Leah’s sake.”


	7. The Things We Do for Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A murderer is caught, Sid takes a bullet, and Lady Felicia strikes a deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *spoiler alert/disclaimer* The murderer is a homosexual. This does not any way reflect a moral judgement on anyone. Murderers can come from any walk of life, and much of this character's motivation was promoted by undue discrimination during the period.

Sid and Father Brown made good time to the filling station in Lady Felicia’s car. Sam Jenkins’ grandfather had the enterprise to open one of the first stations in area. Unfortunately, he hadn’t counted on the simple lifestyle of many in the Cotswolds, and, while the station still pumped petrol, it’s main income was as a repair shop for anything and everything. They pulled up by the pumps and saw the garage open, stacked with radios, ovens, refrigerators, and the odd washing machine.  
  
Father Brown stepped from the car. “Mr. Jenkins! Are you there?”  
  
A grey-bearded man stepped from the shadows, wiping his hands on a greasy rag.  
  
“Ah. My name’s Father Brown. We’d like to speak to your son about….some of his friends.”  
  
“He ain’t here right now.”  
  
Sid nudged Father Brown with his elbow and nodded at the upper widow. A shadow darted back from the glass.  
  
“I see,” the priest said. “Well, would you mind if we took a look around? Our parish secretary has been hounding me about a toaster oven for the presbytery.”  
  
Jenkins glanced up at the window, then shrugged. “Help yourself.”  
  
Both Father Brown and Sid began to move among the maze of gears, coils, and wiring. The Father nodded at Sid, who began sidling toward the staircase in the corner. “Mr. Jenkins, this refrigerator looks identical to the one in the presbytery. Now, we always have a problem with the light going out….”  
  
Sid stole up the stairs while the Father was talking to the handyman. When he reached the top, he peered cautiously into the sparsely furnished room. No one was there. He began to take inventory of the man’s belongings. On the night stand was a framed photograph of Sam with Harold Langley. The two men had their arms across each other’s shoulders and seemed to be at a carnival or fair. In the drawer Sid opened, there were letters. As he shuffled through them, disgust spread across his face. Then something caught his eye. The sleeve of a ragged shirt stuck out from under the bed. “Hello. What’s this?” Sid pulled it out all the way. “Father! I think you need to see this!”  
  
The sound of running feet echoed up the stairs. When Father Brown entered the room, he saw his friend holding a blood-soaked shirt.  
  
A hammer clicked back, freezing them in their tracks. “Hold it right there.”  
  
Sid, Father Brown, and Mr. Jenkins slowly turned toward the sound. Sam Jenkins stood by an open closet door, a revolver in his hand, cocked and aimed at the priest. “What are you two doing, snooping around here?”  
  
“We came to offer our condolences on the death of your friend.” Father Brown glanced at the photograph. “It appears you two were very close.”  
  
“More than close, Father. Look at these,” Sid held the letters out.  
  
“Those are personal.” Sam’s hand trembled as the Father examined the sheets.  
  
“I see. Now, my question is: why kill your lover?”  
  
Sam’s gun trembled even more. “He weren’t….we didn’t…..”  
  
Mr. Jenkins’ face clouded with anger. “Let me see those.” He grabbed the letters from Father Brown’s hand. “Why you -”  
  
Father Brown held up his hand. “That picture looks like it was taken earlier this summer. When the carnival was in town. It’s September now, time for universities to began their classes. Were you upset because Harold was leaving? Or was there something else….?”  
  
Sam was now crying, his hand shaking dangerously. “He said he’d tell everyone. That if I tried to stop him from going he would out me to the world. He had everything in life, and I got nothing. If he took that from, my good name, I’d be ruined.”  
  
At that moment, the clanging sound of police bells could be heard echoing down the road. Sam jerked in surprise and his finger squeezed the trigger.  
  
“Father, look out!” Sid had seen the danger of the unstable man with the gun pointed at his friend and leaped between just as the bullet left the chamber. It grazed his shoulder and he hit the floor with a thud.  
  
The sound of feet running accompanied Inspector Sullivan’s voice. “Police! Drop the weapon!”  
  
The gun fell easily from Sam’s hand.  
  
The Inspector nodded to Sargent Goodfellow, who grabbed Sam’s arms and yanked them behind his back. “Can someone explain what’s going on here?”  
  
Sid pulled himself up, clutching the wound on his arm. “That’s the bloke who murdered Harold Langley.”  
  
Sullivan raised his brows and looked at Father Brown, who was kneeling over Sid. “I’m afraid he’s right, Inspector.”  
  
Mr. Jenkins handed him the letters and the bloody shirt Sid had dropped.  
  
“Right then. Sam Jenkins, I’m arresting you for the murder of Harold Langley. You are not obliged to say anything, but anything you do say may be taken down in writing and given in evidence.”

  
  


Sid, Father Brown, Mrs. McCarthy, and Lady Felicia gathered outside the police station. The door creaked opened, and Leah ran out to greet her friends. She flew into her uncle’s arms, holding tightly to him for a long moment. When she pulled away, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I just wanted to say thank you all, so much, for helping me”  
  
“It was our pleasure,” Lady Felicia reached out and hugged her, as did Mrs. McCarthy.  
  
“And you, Sid,” she gently touched the bandage wrapped around his bullet wound, “I can’t believe you took a bullet for my uncle.”  
  
He grinned and pushed his hat back on his head. “You know I had to take the glory somehow.”  
  
“Now,” Mrs. McCarthy said, “let’s head back to the presbytery. I have some of my award-winning strawberry scones waiting!”

  
  


That evening, Father Brown and Lady Felicia were alone in the kitchen. Mrs. McCarthy and Leah had retired early, and Sid was leaning against the car, smoking a cigarette.  
  
Lady Felicia sipped her tea, then said, “Father, I don’t mean to offend, but may I mention something? About Leah?”  
  
“Of course. You know I’m always open to ideas.”  
  
“Well, she’s just been through a very traumatic experience, and it seems like she may be in need of a, well, a motherly sort.”  
  
“I don’t mean to be rude, Lady Felicia, but I’ve never pegged you as especially motherly.”  
  
She glanced down into her cup. “Then perhaps sisterly. Growing up with six brothers, I know how difficult it can be to embrace one’s feminine side.  
  
Father Brown contemplated this. “It has been a while since Leah has had a female influence in her life. Mrs. McCarthy does her best, but she’s busy with parish business most of the time. What do you propose?”  
  
“Well, she gets off from the candy shop early on Fridays. I could have Sid pick her up and I’ll return her to you on Sunday at mass.”  
  
“Lady Felicia, that sounds like an excellent idea.”


	8. Lessons for Leah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friendship strengthens its bonds

With some hesitation, Leah returned to her job at the sweets shop. In the afternoons, Father Brown came to walk her home and, on his days off, Sid accompanied them. When he showed up on Friday afternoon with Lady Felicia’s car, she slid into the front seat.  
  
“Um….”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Well, passenger’s usually don’t ride in the front.”  
  
Leah glanced into the back of the vehicle. “You mean I’m supposed to ride back there by myself?”  
  
He shrugged and sighed. “I guess you don’t have to. Free country after all.” He started the car up and pulled onto the road.  
  
“I want to thank you,” Leah said, “for driving me to her Ladyship's.”  
  
“Glad to,” he smiled at her, “although, full disclosure, I do get paid to do it.”  
  
“Well, no one paid you to take that bullet for my uncle. I’ll always be grateful for that.” When Sid didn’t respond, she continued. “Can I ask you a question?”  
  
He glanced at her. “Yeah, sure.”  
  
“Why are you so protective of my uncle? I mean, I love him, of course, but why do you?”  
  
Sid was quiet for a moment. He looked down at Leah and saw her studying his face. He turned back to the road. “My parents died before the war. I got sent to an uncle too, but he wasn’t like yours. He beat me….starved me...did some other stuff too. So, I started running away. It was Father Brown that found me in Kembleford, nicking apples from a shop. He took me to the church; Mrs. M gave me something to eat. After that I started showing up more and more. Finally one day, I just stayed.”  
  
“And your job with Lady Felicia?”  
  
“Your uncle arranged that too. To keep me out of trouble, he says.”  
  
“And is it working?”  
  
“Not so far,” he winked.  
  
“Well, if my uncle believes in you, so do I.”  
  
Sid considered this, then nodded.  
  
“By the way, can I ask you another question?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“Can I try on your hat?”  
  
He burst out laughing. “Here.” He reached up and dropped the green cap on her head. It slid over her eyes. She pushed it up and lifted her chin. “Do I look jaunty?”  
  
“Absolutely smashing,” he laughed. They swung into the drive of the Montague estate. “I believe this is your stop, ma’am.”  
  
“Thank you so much, Sid.” Leah handed him his cap and opened the door. “Will I be seeing you again?”  
  
He shrugged. “Don’t normally work on weekends.”  
  
“Oh. Okay. Well, I hope you enjoy your time off.”  
  
Sid tipped his hat, then drove away. Leah stood and watched as he pulled out the drive, until she heard her name.  
  
“Leah, dear! How are you?” Lady Felicia gracefully descended the stairs toward the young lady.  
  
“Lady Felicia. I’m doing wonderful. I hope you are too.” The women greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek and linked arms as they turned back to the house.  
  
“Please. We are going to be spending a lot of time together. You must call me Felicia. Now, I should speak to you about something.” She led the younger woman into the sitting room where they perched on an ornate settee. “You see, well, there’s just no easy way to say this….”  
  
Leah frowned. “Is everything alright?”  
  
“Well, it’s about Sid. I know he’s a good friend, and he is attractive in his own, unique, sort of way, but the truth is, he’s a bit of cad. I would just hate to see you involved with someone like that.”  
  
Leah considered this for a moment. “What would you like me to do?”  
  
Felicia gently placed her hand on Leah’s. “Just be careful, dear.”

  
  


Leah’s education in the feminine wiles of the upper class began that very afternoon and continued over the next several weeks. The countess taught her protege which forks were used for which courses, how to walk with books on her head while in high heels, and the basics of the French language. Together they went through Felicia’s closet and pulled out dozens of dresses, most worn only once or never at all.  
  
During the week, Sid continued to walk Leah home from her job. She never mentioned this to her patroness.  
  
The weather turned cold as winter approached. The trees revealed their bare skeletons, mist rose from the fallow fields, and snow dusted the ground.

  
  


Leah buttoned her blue wool coat tight around her body as she stepped into the cold. Sid was waiting, leaning against the wall of the shop. His steaming breath and the smoke from his ever-present cigarette created a cloud of vapour around his face. “How goes the sweet life?” He flicked out his cigarette and fell into step beside her.  
  
She only shrugged.  
  
“Everything alright?”  
  
She shrugged again.  
  
“Oi. Listen up.” Sid turned and blocked her path. “Come on. It can’t be so bad you can’t tell me.”  
  
She peered up into his face, shaded by the porkpie hat he wouldn’t trade in, even in winter. “Are you going to the Red Lion later?”  
  
“Usually do. ‘Least it’s warm in there.”  
  
“I want to come.”  
  
Sid blew out a steam of breath and pushed back his hat. “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea. It’s not exactly the Ritz.”  
  
She shook her head. “I don’t care.”  
  
“It’s on your head if Mrs. M finds out,” he threw a friendly arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the pub. When he pushed the door open, a heavy fog of smoke, sweat, and sticky beer slammed into them. Leah coughed. “You’ll get used to it,” Sid pulled out a rough chair beside an even rougher table.  
  
She sat and furtively glanced around the room. A furnace in the corner roared and warmed the space. Nearby, two grey-haired men threw darts at a faded board. In another corner, some scrawny teens were shooting pool.  
  
The blonde barmaid wiping glasses behind the counter smiled at Sid. She strode to their table, hips swaying as she walked. Ignoring Leah, she leaned on the table, her ample breasts on display. “What can I get for you, sweetie?”  
  
Sid smiled and leaned forward, then caught sight of Leah and coughed. “I’ll, uh, have a beer, and my friend here….”  
  
“A soft drink, please.”  
  
“Wild,” the waitress rolled her eyes and strolled away.  
  
“So,” Sid leaned his elbows on the table and folded his hands, “what can be so terrifying it needs such a stiff drink?”  
  
His humour brought a smile to her face. “It’s not terrible really. It’s more, well….you see, Lady Felicia’s throwing me a coming out party.” When Sid raised a brow, she clarified, “Like for debutantes. To introduce me to society.”  
  
“And that’s a bad thing?” Sid glanced up at the waitress as she brought the drinks and winked at him.  
  
Leah shrugged. “I suppose not. It’s just that all this high society stuff is harder than I thought. Memorising all the ranks of nobles, which utensils to use, whether to bow or curtsey. I miss being able to just sit and enjoy life. Curl up with a book. I used to go fishing with my father on weekends.”  
  
“Be a bit hard to do in this weather anyway.” They both laughed.  
  
Leah glanced at the barmaid whose eyes kept darting toward her friend. “You going out with her tonight?”  
  
“Probably,” Sid twirled his glass between his fingers.  
  
Leah gave him a genuine smile. “Well, I hope you have a good time. Thank you for listening.”  
  
Sid nodded. “Any time.”  
  
Leah rose and buttoned her coat once more. After she left, he sat back, staring into his half-empty mug. Then he raised the glass and downed its contents, before standing and flipping a coin onto the table. Grabbing his coat, he headed out the door alone.


	9. A Beautiful Sight...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snowy interlude

The snow in Kembleford, along with preparations for Leah’s debutant ball, began swirling through the town, picking up speed and intensity as the year drew to a close. There was a menu to plan, decorations to organise, a guest list to draw up. Lady Felicia brought the girl into town at least once a week for fittings on her custom gown. She arranged for dozens of fir trees to be brought into the ballroom for a festive Christmas atmosphere. The entire Montague mansion became a winter wonderland.  
  
The week of the event, Sid drove the ladies into the village for Leah’s final fitting. They disappeared into the seamstress’ shop, leaving their driver warming himself with a cigarette.  
  
At the other end of the street, Father Brown was on his way from St. Mary’s to visit his niece, who had phoned to let him know she would be nearby. When he spotted Sid, he quickened his step, a welcoming smile on his face. Then he noticed his friend’s posture. He was standing straight up, gaze fixed on the window before him. The cigarette had tumbled from his gaping lips and now lay steaming in the crisp snow. Father Brown ducked behind a phone booth to see what it was that had captivated the chauffeur.  
  
From his new line of sight, Father Brown could see into the dressmaker’s shop. Leah had emerged and was twirling on a small platform. Her gown was a bright blue silk. The hem and skirt were studded with swirls of rhinestones. When she spun, it was like the stirring of a crisp, starry night. With her long white gloves and sparkling tiara perched among her dark curls, she looked every inch a princess. And Sid was enthralled.  
  
An idea formulated in Father Brown’s mind, and he smiled. “Ah, Sid! How nice to see you here.”  
  
Sid coughed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Father. How’re you?”  
  
“I’m fine, thank you. Is Leah in there ?”  
  
“’Suppose so,” he shuffled the snow around his feet.  
  
“Sid, I was wondering if you could do me a favour.”  
  
“Sure. What’s up?”  
  
“Well, I’ve noticed that Leah hasn’t been herself lately. This gala has her all out of sorts. I was wondering if perhaps you could take her out tomorrow afternoon, for a day of relaxation. I would myself, of course, but the cold weather’s been hard on the old knees,” he vigorously rubbed his joints.  
  
Sid nodded, considering this. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I could do that.”  
  
“Thank you very much, Sid. I’m sure it will be an enjoyable day for both of you.” The priest tipped his hat and went inside.

Sid rapped on the door of the presbytery precisely at noon the next day. It swung open to reveal a Leah bundled in red wool and a fur-trimmed cap. “Goodbye, Uncle! Goodbye Mrs. McCarthy!” She yelled back into the house before darting out and grabbing Sid’s arm. “Come on,” she said, “before Mrs. M figures out where I’m going.”  
  
Sid allowed himself to be dragged down the street. “Wait, you didn’t tell her?”  
  
“Well….not exactly. She thinks I’m going to help the Women’s Institute with their knitting for the orphanage.”  
  
“Becoming quite the minx, aren’t we?” he laughed.  
  
She rolled her eyes, then placed her soft mitten into his threadbare glove. “So, where exactly is it that we’re going?”  
  
“You’ll see.” In a short time, they cut off the main road to follow a thin trail in the sparse woods. It wound through the forest of grey bark and bright evergreens before depositing them on the precipice of a small hill. “Now, wait right there,” Sid held up a finger and ducked behind a berry-laden holly bush. From under its cover, he pulled out a small wooden sled. “Ta-da!”  
  
“Sid!” Leah clapped her hands together, “It’s perfect! Where did you find it?”  
  
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, let’s just say, it needs to be back by tomorrow morning.”  
  
“Do you ever buy anything on your own?” She asked, nevertheless climbing onto the worn slats.  
  
“Nah. It’s policy of mine. Now hold on.” With a powerful shove, he sent her flying down the hillside, spraying a shimmer of crystalline flakes in her wake.  
  
“Woooo!” She yelled in excitement all the way down.  
  
“Get back up here, now!” Sid cupped his hands around his mouth as he shouted. “I wanna go!”  
  
The two took turns, sledding down the hill and racing back up. The sled was forgotten, however, when Leah greeted Sid’s ascent with a direct hit from a snowball. A fierce battle ensued in which forts were constructed, snow thrown, and laughs had.  
  
When the pale sun began to slip from the sky, the two finally collapsed in a puddle of melting snow.  
  
“Look at you,” Leah laughed, “you’re an absolute mess.”  
  
“What about you? If we don’t get you cleaned up, Mrs. M will know you weren’t knitting for sure.”  
  
“I don’t know,” she accepted Sid’s outstretched hand in an effort to stand, “things can get a little chaotic at the WI sometimes. Besides, what do you suggest?”  
  
“My place is a little that way. I can make us some tea. Dry up a little.” Sid didn’t let go of her hand as he spoke and clung to it still when he reached for the little tow rope on the sled. Leah made no effort to remove it.  
  
“Very well, Mr. Carter. I shall accompany you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapters. The formatting stuff gets tedious after a while.


	10. ...We're Happy Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos/comments/questions appreciated :)

Sid’s caravan was camouflaged against the white landscape, it’s green lower half concealed by a thick snow bank. He leaned the sled against the siding and brushed snow from the steps. He paused before unlocking the door. “Uh, it’s probably not the same level of comfort you’re used to. No Montague palace that’s for sure.”  
  
Leah rolled her eyes. “I don’t care about things like that.” She smiled. “Actually, it’s probably just the kind of thing Jesus would’ve lived in. You know, always travelling and such.”  
  
Sid chuckled. “Doubt he would’ve lived in this one.” He pushed open the door, revealing an efficient, if tiny, home. In front of them was a small counter with cans and dry goods piled on it. Beside it, two seats were arranged, facing each other and littered with laundry. Through a low doorway was another counter, a few well-hidden shelves and drawers, and a narrow bed.  
  
“It’s sweet.” Leah smiled as she peeled off her damp coat.  
  
“Not how I would’ve described it.” Sid took her coat, her hat, and her gloves. He piled them, along with his own wet items, on the bed in the back.  
  
“Let me put the kettle on,” Leah moved to the little sink, filled up a copper kettle, and placed it on the single-plate range. He sidled past her to swipe the clothes from his miniature couches. Just before she turned around, he was able tuck his latest issue of Carnival, featuring a Father Christmas balancing a nude woman on his knee, beneath the chair.  
  
“Sid, I do wish you wouldn’t smoke these things,” she tossed a pack of cigarettes at him.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“They just….stink,” she wrinkled her nose.  
  
He shrugged. “Guess I’ve gotten used to it.”  
  
“Well some of us haven’t.” Leah handed him a steaming mug. Though Sid’s long legs took up most of a seat, she still squeezed in beside him. “Aw, look.” She pulled a photograph of Sid and her uncle from its place on the wall. “He really loves you, you know.”  
  
“Still. You’re his kin. Can’t beat that.”  
  
“It’s not a competition.” She placed her hand on his.  
  
He took a sip. “It will be tomorrow. All those handsome young lads vying for your hand.”  
  
“I already know I won’t give a whit about any of them.”  
  
He raised a brow. “You sure? I saw the guest list. Some of ‘em are rich as Croesus.”  
  
“I don’t care about money. I know that’s what Lady Felicia wants for me, a life as comfortable as hers. But….please don’t tell her this, but….I see the life she lives. It’s so….lonely. In that house, all by herself. Lord Montague never at home. I just want to be loved. I don’t care about money. Or house size.” She smiled as she glanced around.  
  
Sid leaned forward and stared into his tea for a moment. “Then why are you going through with it? If aren’t going to give the stuffed-shirts a chance?”  
  
“I don’t know. I guess it makes Lady Felicia happy, dressing me up like a doll and throwing such a big party. And she’s been so kind to me, I don’t want to let her down now.”  
  
He let out a long breath and set his cup down before reaching behind his neck. “Well then. It sounds like you’ll be needing this more than I will.”  
  
“Sid, no!” Leah saw he was pulling the long chain of his medallion over his head. “My uncle gave that to you; he wanted you to have it.”  
  
“Yep, he gave it to me, which means it’s mine to give, and I’m giving it to you. Now hold still.”  
  
Despite her misgivings, she bowed her head and allowed him to slip the bulky chain around her neck. Its large disk, with its engraving of the saint on his beloved steed, hung against the threads of her blue sweater. The cold metal now on her neck elicited goosebumps along her skin….that and the fact that Sid’s hand still lingered on her shoulder.  
  
His large, work-hardened fingers rested on her shoulders with the weight of a butterfly. They moved, as though of their own accord, to stroke her soft, black curls. Leah found herself trapped in the gaze of his clear green eyes, which flickered from her own brown pools to her soft lips below.  
  
Before either realised what was happening, his hand was cradling her head, drawing her into his kiss. She gave no resistance and leaned into the embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. The cold was all but forgotten as they created their own warmth between each other. Their tongues danced in and out, and hands clung to hair, clothes, whatever they could find. Soft nothings were whispered when a breath could get in.  
  
Finally, Leah pulled away. Her eyes were soft as they caressed the man beside her. Then they flew open in realisation. “Holy Mother and Joseph! It’s pitch dark out there. Mrs. M is going to kill me!”  
  
“I’ll walk you home.”  
  
“No, no,” Leah jumped up, grabbing her coat and gloves before throwing open the door. “That will only make things worse. But,” she turned to receive a kiss as Sid pulled her hat on to her head, “this isn’t the last you’ll see of me, Sid Carter.”  
  
Sid leaned from the doorway of his caravan, watching her path long after she had disappeared. Before turning in, he grabbed the package of cigarettes and threw it out into the snow.


	11. Trouble in Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A disruption at Leah's party

After a tongue-lashing from Mrs. McCarthy that evening, Leah was whisked off to Lady Felicia’s in the early morning. The long day was spent making last minute touch-ups to the décor, finalising menu items, and arranging the orchestra who arrived around noon. Of course, there were the gowns still. In addition to Leah’s silk affair, Felicia had one made for herself in red, trimmed at the hem and shoulders in soft white ermine.  
  
With the celebrations set to begin at seven, the first guest arrived promptly at six-thirty. Sid had been tasked with heading a small brigade of chauffeurs and valets, each responsible for parking guests’ cars or escorting them to the house. It left no time for he and Leah to speak.  
  
When the first guest entered the ballroom, it was aglow with warm light. The musicians were gently swaying to a soft tune. A starched white cloth draped over a food-laden table, and servants in severe black uniform offered champagne on silvered trays. Lady Felicia was at the door to welcome each entrant, proffering her hand in greeting as they filed through. Counts, dukes, and marquises all made an appearance, and among them came Father Brown and Mrs. McCarthy.  
  
“Well, isn’t this quite a to-do?” the secretary spun around, taking in the finery.  
  
“Yes, a very nice turnout,” Father Brown agreed.  
  
Felicia took the two by the arms. “I’m so glad you both could make it. Leah, will be so happy to see you.”  
  
“When will she be making an appearance, our guest of honour?”  
  
“Oh. Right about now.” Felicia ran up the staircase after checking her watch. “Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen.” The band silenced, and the guests turned their faces up to their hostess. “I am so grateful to see each of you here. And so proud to introduce to you my companion, my protege, my dear friend, and the young lady this is all in honour of. Please welcome to Kembleford and Gloucestershire, Miss Leah Brown.”  
  
Leah emerged to the sound of applause and the glitter of upraised glasses. As she descended on Hornsby’s arm, her gown shimmered under the chandeliers. She smiled at the ocean of indiscernible faces, waving graciously in their direction.  
  
Father Brown and Mrs. McCarthy met the pair at the end of the stairs, along with Lady Felicia. “My dear,” her uncle pulled her in for a kiss on the cheek, “you look beautiful. You’re mother would be proud.”  
  
“You both look fantastic,” Mrs. McCarthy twittered with excitement, “Is that the Duke of Kent I spy?”  
  
“Of course,” Felicia dangled her champagne glass with nonchalance. “Monty met him at the coronation last summer. He practically begged for an invitation.”  
  
“And isn’t that, what’s his name, the fellow we met with the Bishop?” Mrs. McCarthy pointed at an enormous, balding man laughing over drinks with the duke.  
  
“Oh yes. Terribly eccentric, but also terribly rich. You must meet him, darling.” Lady Felicia grabbed Leah by the hand and whisked her off to what became a whirlwind tour around the room, highlighting the best and brightest of the kingdom’s peerages.  
  
Later, when Father Brown had been abandoned by his female companions for the lure of the dance floor, he wandered in the direction of the punch bowl. He waited behind a fidgety man who looked as though it wasn’t his first visit to the ladle. While the man dabbed at a punch stain on his waistcoat, the priest glanced out the window. His niece, the toast of the party, was leaning against the railing of the outdoor balcony.  
  
When the other man staggered away, Father Brown stepped up and filled two cups. He peeled himself from the gay glow and babble of the crowds, joining Leah beneath the stars. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”  
  
“Oh, Uncle, you startled me.” She laughed and reached for the glass he extended.  
  
He moved beside her. “I thought it was a bit stuffy in there too.”  
  
“But I didn’t….” she smiled at him, “it’ll be a cold day before someone pulls anything over on you.”  
  
“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re doing an excellent job.”  
  
“Thank you, Uncle. I am trying, for Lady Felicia’s sake.”  
  
Father Brown had been studying the constellations assembled above them but, as they spoke, he realised his niece’s gaze was turned down. “Ah. I see.”  
  
Without the light from his signature roll, Sid was difficult to pick out from the circle of drivers warming themselves around a small stove. But in the absence of the chattering crowd and blaring music, his deep laughter was easy to hear. “Seems like Sid is having a good time.”  
  
“Yes,” she sighed. “Just wish he didn’t have to be down there all night. I wanted to tell you,” she dug into her white clutch, “he gave me this yesterday. I told him not to, that it was a gift from you, but he wouldn’t hear it.”  
  
“Ah. My old Saint Martin,” Father Brown peered at the silver disk with the moonlight glinting from its surface. “My dear, when I gave that to Sid, I trusted him to make the right decisions for it, and I see that he has.”  
  
Leah blushed. “Thank you, Uncle. I wanted to wear it tonight, but Lady F said it wouldn’t go with my gown.”  
  
“I think it looks beautiful with anything. May I?” Her uncle took the chain from her outstretched hand and clasped it behind her neck. “There. Much lovelier than it ever looked on Sid or me.”  
  
“Thank you,” Leah leaned forward and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “I just wish -”  
  
Her sentenced was shattered by the echoing scream of Lady Felicia. Four shots rang out, fewer than a second apart.  
  
The two Browns rushed into the silence of a room holding its breath. Some people had ducked under tables. Others had thrown down the decorative pine trees as shields. The musicians were all tucked behind their instruments.  
  
In the far corner, the man Father Brown had seen at the punch bowl wavered unsteadily, pistol hanging from his hand. He lifted it, let off one wild shot, then put it to his own skull and spent the last bullet.


	12. Drawing the Line

“Where is she? I need to see her; let me through!”  
  
“Hold on now. I know it’s important, young man, but not everyone’s been questioned yet, and until that happens, we need you to get back to your station.”  
  
“Like hell I will.” The dull thud of a constable’s collision with the wall preceded Sid’s pounding footsteps. Sargent Goodfellow stepped into his path, blocking the door to the parlour.  
  
Sid glared at him from the shadows. “Look, Sargent. There was a shooting tonight. At a party in my friend’s honour. So I’ll ask you this just once. Where is she?”  
  
Goodfellow met his eye, then nodded over his shoulder for the constable to stand down. “She’s in there.”  
  
Sid slammed open the door. “Are you alright L-”  
  
His words stuck in his throat when he saw her standing there. She was completely unharmed, idling by the bookshelf in a corner as beautifully unruffled as the day they met. Only the wet tracks beneath her eyes revealed any misgiving, and the tremble in her lip when she saw him.  
  
“Oh Sidney, now don’t go barging around,” Lady Felicia was on the settee, Inspector Sullivan’s hand on her knee and a hot water bottle over her face. “I’m perfectly alright, as anyone can see.”  
  
The others in the room, including Father Brown and Mrs. McCarthy, exchanged curious glances. Their friend seemed to be the only one oblivious to the true intent of Sid’s alarm.  
  
Leah stepped to his side. “Yes, thank you, Sid. We’re all okay.”  
  
He squeezed her hand, his eye going to the medal around her neck. “I’m glad. And sorry ‘bout the fuss, Lady F. Didn’t know what was going on down there.”  
  
“Yes, I think we’re all still a bit confused, to say the least,” Father Brown agreed.  
  
“Which,” Sullivan stood and consulted his notebook, “is why we’re here. To get to the bottom of things. Now, as I understand, Lady Felicia and Mrs. McCarthy were both in the ballroom when the shooting starting. Father Brown, you and your niece were on the balcony. And you…..” he glanced from his notes to Sid, “you were near the garage with the other drivers, is that right?”  
  
“Yeah. What of it?”  
  
“Did you see anyone entering or exiting the building at the time the shots were fired?”  
  
Sid shrugged. “No one.” His hand still gently brushed against that of the girl beside him.  
  
“So it’s safe to assume this man, Lloyd Harrigan, was acting alone. Was he on the guest list, your ladyship?”  
  
She nodded. “Yes. He owns, owned, a small mill in town. Nothing big, but he did business with Monty occasionally so we felt obliged to give him an invitation.”  
  
“What about the victims? Robert Walker, George Bruce, Lawrence Hayes, and Peter Bryant.”  
  
“All invited. Mostly associates of Monty. Lawrence was a friend of the family.”  
  
Father Brown was frowning. “Harrigan. I’ve heard that name before.”  
  
“Don’t happen to remember where, Father?” The inspector asked.  
  
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”  
  
“Well, we’re done with you all for now,” Sullivan flipped his notebook shut. “But you’ll need to stick around in case we have more questions.”  
  
“For how long?” Lady Felicia turned toward the inspector. “I’m due in London in a few days to spend the holidays with Monty’s family.”  
  
“Well, I’m sorry your ladyship, but those plans are on hold for now.”  
  
“Harrigan, Harrigan,” Father Brown muttered to himself as he left the room.  
  
Leah left through the opposite door, Sid close on her heels.  
  
“Leah, wait….”  
  
She ignored him, fleeing to a bookshelf on the wall of the room they had entered. Her fingers traced the gold-lettered titles.  
  
“What’s wrong, darlin’?” Sid rested his hands on her hips. He pulled the curls from the nape of her neck and pressed gentle kisses to the tender skin. He paused when he heard a small whimper. “Leah….?”  
  
An even louder sob escaped her throat as she turned and buried her head in his shoulder, silk gloves clutching at his starched uniform.  
  
“Leah, Leah, what’s wrong?”  
  
She sniffed and choked back another sob. “Sid, when those shots were going off, I was so scared.”  
  
“I know. I was scared too. Scared something had happened to you.”  
  
“No. I wasn’t worried about me. I was worried about you.”  
  
“I don’t get it. I wasn’t anywhere near there.”  
  
She shook her head. “I know. But I was. And if anything happened to me, I would never see you again.”  
  
Sid paused, considering where the conversation was going. “I mean, yeah,” he said slowly, “that’s kind of how death works.”  
  
“Not for us,” she shook her head again. “Not for me or Uncle or Mrs. McCarthy or Lady Felicia. If anything happens to any one of us, I know I’ll see them again.”  
  
Realisation dawned. “You’re talking about Heaven, aren’t you?”  
  
She nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. “Sid, I just can’t bear the thought of being parted from you for all eternity.”  
  
He backed away, running his hand through his hair. “So what?” He started pacing, pointing a finger at her. “You want me to convert? Because your uncle’s been trying to do that for years.”  
  
“No! I mean, I don’t want you to convert for me.”  
  
“Then what do you want? Hm?”  
  
“You have to convert for you. You have to truly want redemption. Otherwise it’s meaningless.”  
  
“Well, I don’t feel much like being redeemed right now, thank you.”  
  
She stared at him silently for a moment. Then she reached behind her neck. “You’ll be wanting this back then.”  
  
He groaned, pressed his hands against his face, and sighed. “No.” He reached out, closing her hand around the chain of the medallion. Slowly, he brought her fingers to his lips. “You keep it.”  
  
The door closing behind him rang in Leah’s ears louder than any gunshot, and she broke to the floor in tears.


	13. On the Trail

Leah came down the stairs of the presbytery the next morning to find every surface of the kitchen, sitting room, and office littered with newspapers. She tiptoed over a spread announcing the last WI spring fair. “Uncle?”  
  
Father Brown peeked over the edge of a layout from three months ago. “Good morning, dear.”  
  
“Um….?” She spread her arms, indicating the general mayhem.  
  
“Oh, thank goodness you’re up.” Mrs. McCarthy crunched on the papers covering the floor as she hurried in from the sitting room. “Maybe you can talk him out of this nonsense.”  
  
“What is going on, Uncle?”  
  
“Well, I remembered that I read the name Harrigan in a newspaper article. But, I don’t remember which one, so I stopped by the Gazette this morning and got copies of all their papers over the last year.”  
  
“This is a year’s worth of papers?”  
  
Father Brown smiled.  
  
“I told you,” Mrs. McCarthy crossed her arms in exasperation, “nonsense!”  
  
Leah shrugged. “I guess it’ll be over sooner if we all pitch in.”  
  
Mrs. McCarthy sighed and left the room shaking her head.  
  
Over the next few hours the trio scanned scores of printed pages. Their eyes began to ache from consuming the tiny lettering. Just as they were about to give up their mission as a lost cause, Mrs. McCarthy ran in, arms waving. “Oh, Father! Father! I think I found something.”  
  
The three gathered around the paper. “Yes. This is it.”  
  
Mrs. Lloyd Harrigan was found yesterday morning, hanging in her home on Long Street. Her death has been ruled as an apparent suicide. Two months ago, Mrs. Harrigan reported an assault which allegedly took place on her way home from her workplace, The Main Street Bank. As no assailant was named, however, charges were never filed. Mrs. Harrigan is survived by her husband.  
  
There was a moment of silence when the Father was finished reading. Mrs. McCarthy finally spoke up. “I remember this now. The poor woman.”  
  
Father Brown smoothed the paper across the table. “Ladies, I believe it’s time to pay a visit to the police station.”  
  
As they made their way through town, Mrs. McCarthy and Leah lingered behind the Father. “Are you going to tell me what’s the matter or do I have to drag it out of you?” Mrs. McCarthy asked.  
  
Leah looked surprised. “How did you know?”  
  
“You’ve been quiet all day. And you’re usually up at the crack of dawn. Today you didn’t come down until half past nine.”  
  
She sighed.  
  
“Is it your young man?” The older woman asked.  
  
“Mrs. M, if I didn’t know better, I’d take you for a psychic.”  
  
She scoffed. “You don’t have to be a detective like your uncle to notice the moon eyes you and Sidney have been making at each other.”  
  
“Well, I think that might be over.”  
  
“And why is that? He’s a fine young fellow.”  
  
“Yes, but….he’s not Catholic. I don’t mind it as a friend, but I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with someone that doesn’t share my faith.”  
  
Mrs. McCarthy reached out and placed a hand on her arms. The two women linked arms and continued the rest of the way in sympathetic silence.  
  
Sargent Goodfellow greeted the three with a smile when they entered the station. “Morning, Father. Ladies.” His desk was decorated with paper chains and snowflakes that must have been cut by his children. In the corner stood a small tree covered in popcorn and tinsel.  
  
“Good morning, Sargent,” Father Brown greeted the jovial man. “We were wondering if there’s been any update on the shooting last night?”  
  
“’Fraid not.”  
  
“Well then perhaps the Inspector might find this useful.” He laid the folded paper on the desk.  
  
“I’ll be sure to pass it on to him.”  
  
“Um, Sargent. That paper reminded me of where I heard the name Harrigan. His wife was assaulted almost a year ago. You wouldn’t happen to still have her file lying about?”  
  
“Actually, yeah, we do. The Inspector had me pull it first thing this morning. He musta remembered, same as you.”  
  
Father Brown put on his most innocent smile. “I don’t suppose we can take a look at it?”  
  
“You know I’m not allowed to disclose official police information, Father. But,” Goodfellow glanced around the office, “if I go on my lunch break, I can’t really be expected to supervise what you get up to.” He winked.  
  
“Ah. Thank you, Sargent. Enjoy your lunch.”  
  
As soon as the door shut, the three closed in on the desk. Facing them was a manila folder marked Harrigan in bold type. Inside was the incident report filed when Mrs. Harrigan came into the station to report her assault. There were photographs of bruises around her neck and a nasty gash to the right side of her face. The Father quickly scanned each page, quietly turning them back as he went.  
  
Leah pointed to a line close to the end. “It says here that she was ready to name her assailant when she received a visit from someone at her job. Then she refused to say anything and the investigation was dropped.”  
  
“There’s nothing about who the visitor was?” Mrs. McCarthy asked.  
  
Father Brown turned the page. “It appears there’s a sheet missing.”  
  
The Inspector’s door suddenly opened and he leaned out. “What are you three doing here? And where’s my Sargent?”  
  
“Ah. Sargent Goodfellow has taken his lunch. But he asked that I pass this on to you.” Father Brown stepped forward to hand the Inspector the news clipping, creating a distraction for Leah to slam the file shut and push it back onto the desk.  
  
Sullivan eyed the paper, then the smiling trio with suspicion. “All right. But contrary to your opinion, Father, we’re very capable of solving our own crimes. So none of your meddling this time.”  
  
Father Brown smiled even wider. “Wouldn’t think of it.”  
  
“We aren’t really going to stop meddling, are we?” Mrs. McCarthy asked once they stood outside the station.  
  
Father Brown ignored her curious gaze. “I think it’s time we pay a visit to the bank.”


	14. Lady Capulet Visits the Bank

Despite Lady Felicia’s grooming, Leah was still the least known in town when compared to pillars of the community, Father Brown and Mrs. McCarthy. She had changed into a sober, black pencil skirt and pulled her hair into a severe French twist. When she strutted into the bank on her polished heels, she looked every inch the confident businesswoman.  
  
She stood in the middle of the floor, looking bored. “Is there a manager here or do I have to help myself?”  
  
A short, sweaty man with a thinning comb-over came running, hands wringing. “Yes, ma’am? What can I do for you, ma’am?”  
  
“I want to open an account in your,” she looked down her nose as she scanned the room, “bank.”  
  
“Of course, ma’am. My name’s Miles Jones. Please step into my office,” he motioned to a small room off the lobby.  
  
She followed him and threw herself on the plush leather chair before the desk. Hiking up her skirt, she allowed her slim, stockinged leg to dangle over her knee.  
  
The manager picked up a fountain pen and poised it over an official form. “And what is your name, ma’am?”  
  
A moment of panic crossed her face before she settled back into her aloof persona. “Lady….Capulet.”  
  
“I don’t believe I’ve heard of the Capulets,” the manager nonetheless began filling out his form.  
  
“We’re originally from Italy.” She waved off the comment. “I say, I have a dear friend from university who works here. Meg Harrigan. Is she here today?”  
  
The man’s pen stopped its scratching. He gulped and straightened his tie. “I’m afraid to report, ma’am, that Mrs. Harrigan has, um, well, she’s passed, ma’am.”  
  
“What! But how?” Leah gasped.  
  
“Um,” the manager pulled at his tie again, “I, I’m afraid she hung herself.”  
  
“I don’t believe it. Meg was such a fine woman. So much to live for. Although,” she leaned forward and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “she did write to me that she was having marriage trouble. From what I gathered there may have been someone she fancied here.”  
  
The manager leaned forward as well, drawn in by the intrigue. “I’m not one to gossip” he said, “but I did see her leave with our accountant, George Bruce, on more than one occasion.”  
  
Another moment of astonishment passed Leah’s face. George Bruce had been one of Lloyd Harrigan’s victims. She forced a smile. “Tell me. Was this George fellow at least handsome?”  
  
“Well, I dare say,” the manager leaned back in his chair, “I’m not in a position to judge that.” Then his brow went up. “Did you say was?”  
  
“Oh. Did I? I do tend to get tenses mixed up.”  
  
“It’s just that, Mr. Bruce was shot just yesterday. A murder-suicide at some toff’s party.”  
  
“How awful!”  
  
“Indeed. Well, shall we get on with the paperwork?”  
  
They went through several questions, Leah making up her answers as she went. When she finished, she quickly exited and hurried around the corner to meet her uncle and Mrs. McCarthy.  
  
“What did you find out?” Mrs. McCarthy asked.  
  
“Well, the manager’s name is Miles Jones. He said that he saw Margaret Harrigan leave with George Bruce multiple times. I think it’s safe to assume that Bruce was her assailant.”  
  
“Mm.” Father Brown held his umbrella thoughtfully. “The only question now, is how did Lloyd Harrigan find out about Bruce’s involvement? If he had known about it from the beginning, why wait so long to act?”  
  
“Someone tipped him off, you mean?” Mrs. McCarthy piped up.  
  
“I believe so.” The Father turned suddenly to his niece. “Do we know where Mr. Bruce lived?”  
  
“Yes. On Floral Street. I saw his address on the manager’s desk.”  
  
“Then that’s our next destination.”  
  
When they arrived at the small grey house, there was a notice pinned to the door. No admittance by police order. They paused and glanced at each other. “Keep a lookout.” The two women linked arms and stood in front of the door, screening the Father’s lock picking. “We’re in.”  
  
They carefully brushed the snow from their shoes as they entered. The front room was small and uncluttered. Just a few chairs and a radio, no frills. The kitchen was even smaller with an almost empty refrigerator and a sparse pantry.  
  
“We should split up. What we’re looking for could be hidden anywhere.”  
  
Mrs. McCarthy huffed and clasped her hands. “And just what might that be?”  
  
“We’ll know it when we find it.” Father Brown headed into the kitchen. Mrs. McCarthy turned in to the sitting room, while Leah hiked up the narrow stairs to the single bedroom.  
  
The room, like the rest of the house, was a stark picture of bachelor life. A bed, a nightstand, a cupboard, and a washbasin completed the ensemble. With not much to move about, Leah knelt to the floor and began peeking beneath the furniture. The cupboard and washbasin yielded nothing, but as she knelt beside the bed, she noticed a slim rectangular package wedged between nightstand and wall.  
  
She crawled to the other side and worked at the item, which turned out to be a leather portfolio. Once it was out, she flipped it open. It was full of columns and rows of numbers. In the back were slips that appeared to be checks or deposits. “Uncle! Mrs. M! I think I found something!”  
  
Footsteps sounded up the staircase.  
  
“Let’s have a look,” Father Brown took the folder and held it open for the women to see. After a moment of scanning the numbers, he frowned. “I’m not sure what to make of this.”  
  
Mrs. McCarthy sighed. “These are accounts from the bank. Someone was cooking the books!”  
  
When the Father and his niece stared in surprise, she shook her head. “Who do you think keeps the finances straight for the parish? Tracks the donations and sends the reports to the diocese? Even the Women’s Institute makes use of my skills.”  
  
A moment passed while Leah and the Father considered this new information. Finally Leah spoke up. “So what does all this mean?”  
  
“Well,” Mrs. McCarthy pointed to some of the numbers on the page, “these show deposits made into the bank and these are withdrawals. There’s a number next to each of the deposits, always a higher amount than the original. The difference is always withdrawn the next day.”  
  
“And what are these?” Father Brown pointed to the small marks at the end of each row.  
  
Mrs. McCarthy raised her glasses to her eyes and leaned in. “They look like initials. GB and MJ.”  
  
“GB is obviously George Bruce, but MJ?”  
  
Leah gasped. “Miles Jones! The bank manager!”  
  
“What does this mean, Father?”  
  
The priest frowned. “I believe it means that Miles Jones was the one to tip off Mr. Harrigan to his wife’s assailant.”  
  
“But why? It looks like they were in this together.”  
  
“Something obviously went wrong. We need to find out what.”


	15. Christmas in Kembleford

Miles Jones was locking the door to the bank when the trio approached. “Ah, Lady Capulet. How nice to see you again.”  
  
“Afternoon, Mr. Jones. Locking up early?”  
  
“Yes. We like to give our employees a head start on their Christmas holiday. Is there, uh, something I can do for you?”  
  
“Mr. Jones,” Father Brown smiled, “we wanted to ask about your former employee, George Bruce.”  
  
The little man’s eyes shifted as he fingered the keys in his hands. “Um, yes. Poor George. Terribly unfortunate what happened.”  
  
“Yes,” Father Brown agreed. “But you see, the man who shot him was the husband of Margaret Harrigan. I believe she also worked for your bank.”  
  
“I’m not sure where this is going, Father.”  
  
The priest demurred, extending the folder they’d found. “We found this in Mr. Bruce’s home. It appears there is something, interesting, about these figures.”  
  
Jones straightened his tie once more, then stood as tall as he could. “Yes. George and I were embezzling. But that’s all you can prove.”  
  
“Actually. There was a page missing from the police report regarding Mrs. Harrigan’s assault. It names the visitor who convinced her to drop the case. I believe we’ll find that sheet in your office, and I also believe it reveals you were that visitor.”  
  
He continued. “A search warrant will be easy enough to obtain once the Inspector sees these figures. What I’m wondering is, what went wrong between you and Mr. Bruce? You were willing to protect him until just a few days ago when you tipped Lloyd Harrigan off to his actions.”  
  
Even in the low temperature, a sheen of sweat glistened on Jones’ brow. He glanced around once more, looking for a way out, but the three had slowly closed in around him, pinning him against the door of the bank.  
  
“Fine. George was starting to get greedy. He wanted a bigger cut each time. I told him if he kept it up, I would go to the police and tell him about his involvement with Margaret. He said he would do the same, tell them I was the assailant. It would be his word against mine. So I went to Mr. Harrigan.”  
  
Mrs. McCarthy bristled. “And did you know that he was going to shoot all those people?”  
  
He hung his head. “No. I had no idea it would be such a massacre.”  
  
“There’s still time,” Father Brown said gently, “for you to repent. You won’t be able to bring back those lives, but you can bring justice for their families.”  
  
“I have too much to lose.” Jones reached into his coat and pulled out a small pistol.  
  
“Miles,” Father Brown held up his hands, “please. It’s not worth it. You still might be able to save yourself from the noose, but not if you commit cold-blooded murder right here, right now.”  
  
The gun trembled in the man’s hand.  
  
“Please, let me help you,” the Father approached him slowly, hand extended. The gun wobbled once more, before dropping into the Father’s hand. “Mrs. McCarthy,” he said, “please phone the Inspector.”

  
  


Jones was booked into the jail two days before Christmas. Lady Felicia left for London the same day, leaving only the small group of Father Brown, Mrs. McCarthy, and Leah to celebrate the holidays together.  
  
After a decadent Christmas dinner prepared by Mrs. McCarthy and, under her watchful eye, Leah, the three gathered in the parlour of the presbytery around a sparkling tree. Mrs. McCarthy picked up her cup of tea and approached the girl. After keeping up a lively countenance throughout the dinner, she was sitting at the window, gazing at the white flakes swirling around a black sky.  
  
“Don’t tell me your long face is over that young Sidney Carter now.”  
  
Leah started, then glanced at her uncle in surprise, realising that Mrs. McCarthy had exposed her secret to her uncle. He only smiled up from the chess set he was arranging.  
  
“You never mind him,” Mrs. McCarthy set her saucer down, “I told him about the two of you weeks ago.”  
  
“Why haven’t you said anything, Uncle?”  
  
The smile faded from his face, and he glanced at Mrs. McCarthy. “I tend to find that these sort of things resolve themselves on their own.”  
  
Mrs. McCarthy scoffed. “Nonsense! We haven’t seen hide nor hair of that boy in almost a week! What kind of a fool would he have to be to give up a girl like Leah anyhow?”  
  
“Perhaps he’s taking some time to himself.”  
  
“And I should like to know why. It’s Christmas, after all. He couldn’t even come say hello to his dearest friends?”  
  
The Father stood and joined the ladies at the window. “Sid has resisted repentance for a long time now. Leah may be just the catalyst he needs, but that doesn’t mean the change will be easy. Often we make decisions more difficult than need be, wrestling against what we know to be right.”  
  
“Yes, well,” Mrs. McCarthy placed a hand on Leah’s shoulder, “at least you can take comfort in the fact that he is likely all alone, pining for you, my dear.”

  
  


Sid Carter was far from alone, however. He sat in the smoky darkness of the Red Lion, his sixth beer cradled between his hands. When Charlie, the bartender, went to close early, he had to throw the young man into the street.  
  
Stumbling through the snow, he made his way to the Crimson Feather. Though not a member, the bouncer, another Red Lion regular, looked the other way on slow nights. It was certainly one of those nights, Sid noticed. Only two other customers lounged in the red light as a trio of girls danced on a decorated stage.  
  
One girl in particular caught his eye. She had jet black hair and wore a spangled blue dress (though it was cut so high as to hardly warrant the noun). Through Sid’s alcohol-dimmed eyes, she looked eerily familiar.  
  
The girl noticed his stare and smiled at him from the stage, blowing a kiss from her red-painted lips. During their next number, the girls moved through the tables, paying special attention to their lonely admirers. The girl in blue slid a feathery boa around Sid’s neck. Then, as she leaned forward, brushing her bosom across his arm, she tucked a slip of paper into his shirt pocket. He pulled it out and read: Room 9.  
  
When the lights were snuffed in the main hall and the piano player picked up his hat to leave, Sid weaved toward the staircase in the corner. After a few more shots while watching the girls, it was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other as he mounted the stairs.  
  
The room with the rusty 9 affixed to the door was just off the first corridor. He pushed it open, then stopped in bleary-eyed confusion. The girl that sat at the vanity had the flaming red hair of an Irish sunset. The black hair sat beside her on a mannequin’s head.  
  
“Who are you?” Sid slurred.  
  
“Why I’m Annie, silly goose. We met downstairs, remember?”  
  
“Where’s Leah?”  
  
“I can be Leah if you want, darling."  
  
“No, no,” he held out an arm as she approached. “Stay away.”  
  
Concern flickered across Annie’s face. “Daniel! Daniel, come here please.”  
  
Daniel appeared in the doorway. Or rather filled the doorway as he stood, enormous black arms crossed over his broad chest.  
  
Sid was still stumbling around. “Where is she? Where is she?” he shouted.  
  
“Come on, son.” Daniel grabbed his collar and lifted him like a puppy. With Sid still weakly squirming, Daniel half pushed, half dragged the young man through the building and out into the snow. “Go home. Find someone else to deal with your drunk ass.”  
  
Sid fell onto his hands and knees in the snow. He crawled a few inches before finally collapsing, freezing tears falling down his face.


	16. Reconciliation

A few days after Christmas, Leah trekked through melted, muddy slush on her way to Sid’s caravan. As she approached she saw a weak trail of smoke lingering against the bleary sky.  
  
“Sid,” she knocked on the door. “Sid, please. I know you’re there. Please open the door, I want to talk.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“Sid. I’ve been thinking. Maybe I was too harsh. Maybe we can, talk or, work something out.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“I got you a Christmas present. I know it’s late, but I hope you still enjoy it.” When he still said nothing, she placed her gift on the step and trudged back across the field.  
  
Sid waited until the sound of her sloshing steps died away, then a few more minutes for good measure. When he opened the door, a small plunk sounded. He glanced down and saw the red and green package Leah had left. It was lying in a mud puddle, cold water seeping into its bright wrapping.  
  
For a moment, he stared across the grey landscape at Leah’s receding footprints, then picked up the wet box and brought it inside. He laid it on a newspaper spread across his table and tore at the wrapping, flinging tiny droplets of mud across the room.  
  
Inside the colourful paper was a cardboard box. When the box was opened, it revealed another box, this one beautifully velvet-lined, and a note. Merry Christmas, darling.  
  
Sid stared at the note until it began to tremble in his hand. Through misty eyes he lifted the lid of the box. On its satin interior lay a medallion identical to the St. Martin. Where the warrior saint would have been, however, was a cloaked man holding a parchment letter. The reverse told who he was: Saint Valentine, Patron of Lovers.  
  
Reverently, Sid placed it around his neck.  
  
Then, with an attitude of absolution, he went through each crevice, niche, and cranny of the caravan, pulling out his final reserves of alcohol. Bottles of beer, flasks of whisky, each ended up washing down the drain of the sink. Then he dug out his fresh packs of cigarettes and threw them out the window. Back issues of Carnival ended torn up and crumbled into embers in the tiny furnace.

  
  


The next Sunday Mass began as any other. Father Brown took the pulpit in his spotless white robes, while his niece and friends sat in the front pew, arrayed in Sunday splendour. As the Father began his homily, however, Leah noticed that he paused a moment longer than usual. His gaze seemed fixed near the back of the chapel and a smile came across his face.  
  
It would have been an etiquette disaster for Leah to turn her head and stare at whatever had caught her uncle’s attention, so she contented herself to sneaking as many sidelong glances as she dared. When the congregation stood for the final prayer of blessing, heads bowed and eyes closed, she chanced a quick peak.  
  
A lanky figure was leaving the building, pushing the doors open into the brittle air. Though his profile was shaded by the hat he wore, there was no doubt in Leah’s mind who had been in the back of the church.  
  
Her suspicions were confirmed when small presents began to appear on the presbytery stoop each week. A bouquet of early spring irises. A rhinestone-studded hair comb. A single from the new American sensation, Bill Haley. On St. Valentine’s Day a card was taped to the door of the sweets shop where Leah continued working.  
  
She also continued trying to catch glimpses and conversations with Sid after Mass, but always he managed to leave before the rest of the congregation. Finally, Leah decided to take a drastic measure. With blessings from her uncle, she waited out the Mass service on a bench near the church’s cemetery. When Sid slipped out the building, she ran up behind him, latching on to the back of his braces. “Oi, Carter. Where do you think you’re going?”  
  
He froze before turning. “Leah. What are you doing out here?”  
  
“Me? What are you doing? What have you been doing these past few weeks?”  
  
They locked gazes for a few moments, Sid exasperated beneath the shade of his trademark hat and Leah with her hands on her hips and a forced frown on her face. Then, simultaneously, they broke down. Sid wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her from the ground as she leaned into his kiss. “Darling, I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered against her ear.  
  
“Missed me?” She leaned back and punched him softly on the chest. “You’ve been here every week. And I know you’ve been around, so if you miss me it’s your own fault!”  
  
“I know,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m sorry. I just had to do some thinking. You know, on my own.”  
  
“And what did you decide?”  
  
He gently reached for her hand. “I was so miserable after that shooting. I thought I could move on, but you,” he stroked her cheek, “you are ridiculously difficult to forget, Leah Brown.”  
  
She blushed. “And coming to Mass?”  
  
“Well, it’s like you said. If there is life after death, I want to spend it with you.”  
  
“Sid.” She burrowed her head against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there's more in store for Sid and Leah!


	17. Romantic Interlude

Sid was baptised into the Catholic Church on Easter Sunday. His new spiritual family held a huge dinner in honour of Christ’s resurrection and the symbolic one celebrated by Sid. The festivities continued into Easter Monday, but when Tuesday rolled around, Leah and Sid finally had time to themselves.  
  
Sid arrived at the presbytery door in the mid-morning sunshine, a picnic basket in one hand and a fishing pole in the other. Leah smirked and crossed her arms as she leaned against the doorway. “You packed a lunch? You who can barely make a sandwich?”  
  
He shrugged. “Mrs. M sent me home with some leftovers last night.”  
  
“Well, did she give you some of her award-winning strawberry scones?”  
  
When he shook his head, she disappeared back into the house before reappearing with a plate of the creamy dessert. “I think we’re all set now.”  
  
The two headed across the newly green fields, hand in hand. Beyond one of the gently rolling hills was a stream that slowed into a wide pool, a perfect resting place for the long, spotted trout common in the countryside. Sid set the pole up while Leah spread the blanket from the basket. Before long, Sid was laying back, hat tipped over his eyes to shade from the descending sun.  
  
Leah sat nearby, reading from the book she brought. As the hazy sunshine warmed the pleasant meadow, however, her mind began to drift. Her eyes wandered to Sid’s lanky, outstretched body, noticing in particular the exposed V of flesh beneath his open shirt. The Saint Valentine medallion glinted against his tanned skin. “I see you kept your Christmas gift,” she murmured.  
  
He raised himself onto his elbows. “Yeah. Hope that doesn’t mean I owe you a late Christmas present.”  
  
She laughed. “I’ll let you make it up on the next holiday.”  
  
As they both laughed, he leaned forward, pulling her face to his. She melted into his embrace, running her hands across his chest, inching slowly lower. Then her knuckles brushed something hard. She jerked back. “Sid?”  
  
“Hm? Oh! Ah, shit.” He jumped to his feet and dug into his pocket. From the pocket, he produced he held a small velvet box. There was no denying what was inside. Leah’s face went slack in surprise. As if in slow motion, she came to her feet and he sunk to his knees. “I wanted to do this later, but….Leah, Leah Brown,” he hesitated, rubbing the box between fingers.  
  
She smiled and grasped his hands, “Go on, Sid. Please.”  
  
“Uh,” he coughed, “Leah. I remember coming to pick you and the Father up from the train station. I thought you’d be this scrawny lil’ kid. And out you stepped, this gorgeous woman. Since then, you’ve made me laugh, cry,” a tear slid down his cheek in testimony, “hell, you even made me change religion.  
  
“I guess what I’m trying to say is I don’t ever want to spend another day without you. Will you marry me?”  
  
Leah was caught in the chaos of her mixed emotions. She bounced from foot to foot in excitement while tears streamed from her eyes, then made a little choking noise. “Yes! Yes, Sid Carter, I will marry you!”  
  
Forgetting about the ring, Sid leaped up, grabbed her by her waist and spun her in the air. Their lips met as he lowered her to the ground.  
  
After a very long interlude, Leah sat up. Through her flushed daze, she patted the ground beside them. “Um, did we lose the ring?”  
  
“Oh, God! I hope not! We gotta find it.” Sid frantically crawled on his hands and knees.  
  
“Found it.” The relief in Sid’s eyes as she handed it over was immense. “I didn’t think you’d panic this much,” she said, “It must have cost quite a bit.”  
  
He wiped a hand across his face. “You could say that. Mrs. M gave it to me.”  
  
“Oh.” Leah took her first good look at the piece of jewellery. The silver band was inlaid with a square diamond surrounded by sapphires. “It’s beautiful.” Then she smiled. “I suppose this means that Mrs. M knows about your plans. And probably Uncle and Lady F too?”  
  
Sid grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that.”  
  
She kissed his brow. “I think I can forgive you, dear. Shall we go give them all the answer?”  
  
Packing up their picnic supplies, the two hurried back to the presbytery. They arrived just as the sun was setting, leaving them to weave through the shadows of town. Though darkness was falling, a warm glow spilled from the window of the house’s kitchen. When they entered, their closest friends were gathered around the table, sharing amiable conversation and hot tea. They all paused when the couple burst in, faces beaming.  
  
“Well, did she say yes?” Mrs. McCarthy huffed in anxious anticipation.  
  
Leah held up her bejewelled hand in answer. Shouts of congratulations and eager hugs erupted throughout the room.  
  
When Leah pulled back from her embrace with Lady Felicia, the other woman kept an arm around her shoulder. “Now, you know I’m very happy for you two, but I’m afraid I cannot allow this marriage to go on.” Her friends froze in wide-eyed astonishment. The countess smiled though. “I cannot allow this if you intend to take your new bride back to that terrible caravan, Sid Carter.”  
  
Sid shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, I know it’s not much, but –”  
  
“No, it’s not. And that’s why I insist you two move into that cottage Monty and I have on the edge of the estate.”  
  
“Oh, Felicia, we can’t accept charity,” Leah protested.  
  
“Nonsense. It won’t be charity. The place needs a fantastic amount of repair and upkeep. And of course I expect Sid to continue driving for me full time.”  
  
Another silence filled the room. This time, however, there were more than a few misty eyes as the loveliness of Lady Felicia’s gift sank in. Leah hid her face against the woman’s shoulder, overcome with the emotion of the day.

  
  


Leah and Sid were wed in a small, but beautiful ceremony at St. Mary’s with her uncle officiating. Tears fell through smiles on the faces of Mrs. McCarthy and Lady Felicia as they stood witness. The newlyweds settled quickly into their gifted home, finding far fewer repairs than their friend had hinted. Leah continued working at the sweets shop, while her new husband doubled his workload, driving for Lady Felicia and coming onto the parish’s payroll fulltime as handyman. They were saving for what every couple (notably Catholic couples) anticipated in the first year of marriage.  
  
Six months passed, though, then a year, and another. The membership of the Carter household remained at two.  
  
After a few years, Mrs. Parker decided she wanted to retire to Brighton with her sister. With no child in view, Sid and Leah pooled their resources and (with a little investment from their friends) went into the sweets business.  
  
Sid continued his two jobs while Leah took over the counter of the shop, ordering stock and balancing books. Life in Kembleford passed in relative quiet with only the occasional murder to keep the resident sleuthing priest busy.

  
  


That was, until a hot day in the summer of 1957. Sid had a rare few minutes off and was visiting his wife in the newly named Carter’s Sweets. The sign on the door was turned to “Closed” but the door remained unlocked while the couple enjoyed their lunch. It was a typically quiet hour, housewives done with their morning shopping and children not yet released from school. So Sid and Leah were surprised when the bell above the door jingled, signalling a visitor. They were even more surprised when they saw their guest.  
  
A frail young girl stared up at them with wide blue eyes, her gaze fixed on a point over Leah’s shoulder. Ash was sprinkled through her two blonde braids and soot smeared across her cheek.  
  
“You alright, darlin’?” Sid leaned down to the girl’s level. The scent of smoke clung to her thin cotton dress. Her eyes began to roll around the room, taking in the brightly coloured shelves, but still she said nothing. “Leah,” Sid turned back to his wife, “I think you better go get your uncle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update! As much as I love reading romance, it can sometimes be tedious to write. I have some more mystery planned for Kembleford though, so stay tuned.


	18. An Unusual Visitor

“Can you tell us your name, child?”  
  
“What about where you came from, love?”  
  
“Do you want….a chocolate bar….little girl?” The others turned to Lady Felicia. She shrugged. “I’ve never been good with children.”  
  
Their strange visitor was now sitting on the candy counter where Sid had placed her. She had looked the priest and his friends up and down when they arrived, but steadfastly refused to make eye contact with anyone. There was a quiet pause as they considered what to do next.  
  
“Oh! I have an idea,” Leah exclaimed before quickly disappearing into the shop’s back room. She continued her train of thought as she came back out. “Fluffy had kittens a few weeks ago. This one is Sparky.” She dropped a mewing ball of fur into the girl’s lap.  
  
Her eyes widened in astonishment at the tiny creature. As her tiny hands stroked the delicate fuzz, it emitted a warm purr. Tears formed in her eyes, then she began sobbing uncontrollably.  
  
“Oh dear,” Mrs. McCarthy rescued the kitten from the girl’s trembling hands.  
  
Seeing the girl’s tears broke Leah. She scooped the girl up in her arms, rocking her gently while stroking her pale hair. “There, there, sweetheart. It’ll be alright.” When the crying subsided, Leah carefully set her down. This time, though, the girl seemed to be awakened. She immediately grabbed Leah’s hand and tugged her toward the door.  
  
“I think we know what we’re doing next,” Father Brown smiled.  
  
The girl led them through town and down a dusty side road. After a half a mile, Sid hoisted the child onto his shoulders where she led with her tiny finger pointing the way. Each road they turned down led further and further from town, twisting through hills, forests, and farmland.  
  
Finally, Father Brown sniffed the air. “Smoke.”  
  
His senses were confirmed as they rounded a bend to see the skeletal, smouldering remains of a small cabin. Sid set the girl down and she ran to cower behind him, clutching the legs of his trousers.  
  
“I think it’s safe to say this is where she came from,” Father Brown glanced around. “Why don’t you ladies stay here? Sid and I will take a look.”  
  
It took a mighty effort to pry the tiny hands from Sid, but once she was free of him, she turned and latched onto Leah’s skirt.  
  
Sid and the Father hesitantly approached the ruins. There was an eerie stillness to the surrounding clearing, no birds, no rustling of leaves. Piles of ash revealed still-burning embers that they carefully avoided. With his umbrella, Father Brown poked at the cinders. He uncovered an iron pan, the crumbled frame of a long gone photograph, a half-burned shoe.  
  
“Uh, Father. I think there’s something you need to see.” Sid was toeing a pile of ash as the priest made his way over.  
  
“Oh my.” Beneath the soot and feathery ash was the solid rod of a human bone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one for now. Look for more to come from the mysterious little girl.


	19. Do You Hear What I Hear?

“So this kid just wandered into your shop?” The Inspector stared incredulously at the group of six crowded into his station.  
  
“That’s right,” Father Brown smiled.  
  
“And she took you to a burned down house in the middle of nowhere?”  
  
“Are you hard of hearing, Inspector? We’ve been over this all before.” Mrs. McCarthy admonished.  
  
Sullivan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just don’t understand how you all….never mind. So do we know the girl’s name? Or who was the body in that house?”  
  
“She hasn’t said a word,” Leah answered. The girl was perched on her lap fiddling with a tin aeroplane Sargent Goodfellow gave her.  
  
“How can no one know who lived out there?” Lady Felicia asked.  
  
“It’s fairly tucked away,” Father Brown commented. “Whoever lived there likely didn’t want to be noticed.”  
  
“Well, we’re going to have to get that girl to talk if we want to learn anything.” Sullivan knelt down in front of the girl and placed his hand on her knee. “Honey, you’ve got to give us something.”  
  
But the girl cowered away from his touch, tucking even further back into Leah’s protective embrace.  
  
“Uh, sir?” Sargent Goodfellow leaned over the front desk. “I don’t think she can hear you.” Everyone in the room, except the little girl, turned to the sargent in stunned silence. He smiled. “My sister’s got a boy that can’t hear. Can’t talk either, but he reads lips pretty good.”  
  
The Inspector frowned, then made his way behind the desk. Watching the girl closely, he swiped a heavy, brass paper weight onto the floor. Everyone jumped. Everyone except the girl. “Well, I think you’ve cracked it, Goodfellow.” Sullivan rubbed the back of his neck. “That puts us back to square zero though.”  
  
“I don’t know about that,” Father Brown encouraged. “She may be dumb in the sense of speaking, but she was certainly intelligent enough to show us the crime scene.”  
  
Sullivan sighed. “We don’t even know that it’s a crime, Father. For all we know the kid knocked over a candle or something.”  
  
“Then let’s ask her. Sargent, may we borrow some paper and pencils?”  
  
While the officers in the station attempted to conduct their daily business, Leah and her uncle sat on the floor of the Inspector’s office watching the little girl doodle with unsteady fingers. Lady Felicia and Mrs. McCarthy left to scare up some dinner, and Sid went to lock up the shop for the night. When they returned, the floor was littered with damning images, all in the pencil scrawled hand of their new ward.  
  
One picture depicted what was undoubtedly the house they had discovered, engulfed in graphite flames. In another, a figure that appeared to be the girl was holding hands with a woman. Her mother? Chicken scratch barely resembling letters filled another page. Most disturbing, however, was a picture of a man. His brows and mouth were turned down in anger and the black swirls beside his head gave him an aura of evil.  
  
“Oh dear,” Mrs. McCarthy said.  
  
Leah held up the sheet with the writing on it. “We think this is her name. As near as we can make out it says Amelia.”  
  
“Amelia. That’s a very pretty name.” Lady Felicia smiled as she addressed the girl, then cleared her throat, realising her mistake.  
  
At that moment, Inspector Sullivan opened the door to his office. “Well, I see you’ve made good use of my personal space. Did you get anything from her?”  
  
Father Brown held up the sketch of the man. “We’re assuming this is the child’s father.”  
  
“Great,” Sullivan took the piece of paper, “We’ll be on the lookout for an angry stick figure.”  
  
“Possibly one with a dark cloud over his head,” the priest smiled.  
  
Mrs. McCarthy spoke up. “What are you going to do with the child for the night?”  
  
He scratched his chin. “I’m not sure. I guess we can’t keep her in one of the cells.”  
  
“Of course not!” Leah jumped up from her place on the floor beside Amelia. “She’ll, she’ll stay with Sid and me.”  
  
Sid’s brows raised in surprise, but offered no objection.  
  
“Fine. I’ll release her into your custody temporarily, but I want her back here first thing in the morning. My men are still combing the area to see if they can pick up anyone who might’ve seen something. We’ll need her to help identify people. As much as she’s able.”  
  
“Oh, here. Before you leave.” Lady Felicia left the room and came back with a large carpet bag. “These were from when my niece Bunty was a child. We kept them in case….well, they’re yours now.”  
  
In the bag was at least a dozen smocks, skirts, and dresses, hardly worn and just Amelia’s size. Curious, the girl came over to peak inside the bag. Her eyes lit up when she saw the brightly coloured clothing and she began pulling them out for closer examination.  
  
“Hold up now,” Leah pried the dresses from her hands. “We’ll go through them when we get home.” She turned to Lady Felicia. “Thank you. So much.”  
  
“Yes. Well, it’s the least I could do.” She sniffed, but didn’t let anyone see the mist in her eyes. “Sid, Hornsby will drive me home. You go help your girls get settled in.”  
  
“Yes ma’am.” Sid tipped his hat and the friends parted ways for the evening.  
  
Once back at their cottage, Leah struggled to get Amelia out of her smoky, soot-stained clothes. When she realised the warm water in the tub was for her, though, it was a bit easier. While the girl was splashing in the bubbles, Leah tossed the old clothes out the door for Sid to dispose of. They didn’t want her to have any memory of the sad day hanging about.  
  
As Sid sorted through the clothes Lady Felicia had brought, he realised there was no nightgown. So when Leah had the girl wrapped in a warm, fluffy towel, he handed her one of his old shirts. It draped over the girl like an oversized dress and she smiled, making a noise like a laugh.  
  
Once she was tucked into the spare bedroom (a time-consuming task as many times as she climbed out, then stroked the quilt, then poked at her pillow) Leah and Sid were free to finally retire. After the day’s exhausting events, they exchanged a brief goodnight before falling fast asleep. As Leah drifted off though, she plotted exactly what she would say to her husband to convince him to keep the girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing my absolute best to accurately portray a deaf character, especially during this time period, but if anyone has constructive criticism, it's always appreciated.


	20. More Questions Than Answers

Leah broke her promise to the Inspector. Instead of taking Amelia directly to the station in the morning, the two of them tracked down Ada Rawlins in the mobile library van. Amelia sat down in the children’s section, paging through the colourful illustrations in a volume on butterflies. After scanning rows and rows of dusty books, Leah found one slim, faded book by author Joseph Watson: “On the Education of the Deaf and Dumb.” She knew information on deaf education was a rare request in Kembleford, so she convinced Ada to let the book go for a donation of a few shillings.  
  
After running by the shop to leave a “Closed until Further Notice” sign, Leah and Amelia finally headed to the police station. Sid met them there, having picked up Lady Felicia, Mrs. McCarthy, and Father Brown.  
  
“It’s about time,” Sullivan snapped. “We found a man going back through the house last night. What’s left of it anyway. We need the girl to identify him.”  
  
“I don’t think this is right, Inspector.” Leah warned.  
  
Sid placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll go with her, darlin’.” He took the girl’s hand and she gladly followed him down the hall to the interrogation room.  
  
Leah’s misgivings were well-founded, though. As soon as the door opened, Amelia’s screams rang through the building. There was the sound of the door slamming shut, and Amelia ran into the station’s foyer, Sid hot on her heels. She dove past Goodfellow’s legs to crawl under the front desk  
  
“Amelia. Baby girl. Come on out,” Sid knelt to coax her.  
  
“Inspector! How could you let this happen?” Leah was livid. Mrs. McCarthy and Lady Felicia grabbed her arms before she could express any further discontent.  
  
“I’m sorry about that, Mrs. Carter. But now we can be fairly sure he’s our man.”  
  
“I hope so!” She shook free from her friends and hurried behind the desk to join her husband on the floor.  
  
Sullivan waved the file in his hand. “Name’s Ryan Sloane. He has a petty record of theft and forgery. Even if he didn’t commit the murder, he knows something judging by the way he was scanning the crime scene last night. Goodfellow,” he nodded at the Sargent, “I need you in interrogation.”  
  
“We know it’s a murder now?” Father Brown asked.  
  
Sullivan glanced around. “Yeah. We have some initial findings back from Dr. Mosden.”  
  
“Then, ah. May I….?” Father Brown stood as the officers turned to go.  
  
Sullivan was at his wit’s end with this case. A deaf child wandering from a burned house, a mystery suspect who frightened said child half to death, and now the Father on his tail. He pinched the bridge of nose and sighed. “Fine. But so help me: Not. A. Single. Word.”  
  
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiled.  
  
In the dark room, a huge man was handcuffed to the steel table. Though hardly more than a teenager, he was heavily muscled. Thick, corded arms covered in black hair bulged from the sleeves of a tight brown shirt. When they entered, he smiled through a wiry black beard. “Where’d the kid go? Looked like she was just warming up to me.”  
  
The other men said nothing as they filed in, Father Brown taking a chair behind the Inspector and Goodfellow assuming his position by the door. Sullivan sat opposite Sloane and glared at him across the pale lamp light. “Why don’t you just give it up, Sloane?” He tapped the file on the table. “You have a sheet as long as my arm. We found you rummaging through the ashes of that house. And that girl seemed to recognise you from somewhere pretty unpleasant.”  
  
Sloane sneered, but said nothing.  
  
“We have the preliminaries from the coroner here. Says the victim was definitely female and definitely had her head bashed in before the fire started. So what happened? Get into a row with the missus then come back for the girl?” Sullivan’s voice got louder as the man across from him remained silent. “Who is she, Sloane? Your daughter? Is she supposed to be dead too?”  
  
When the man grinned wolfishly, Sullivan jumped up from the table to pace around the room. Father Brown watched him intently. Finally, the Inspector turned back. His voice was softer. “Okay, so maybe it was an accident, hm? You got into a fight, but you didn’t mean to hit her. Of course the kid ran. She was scared. You just came back to make sure she was alright?”  
  
Sloane leaned forward. “You don’t know the half of it, Inspector. The things I’ve done,” he grinned at Father Brown, “the devil I am.”  
  
“What do you mean by that?” Father Brown received a pointed glare from Sullivan for his question.  
  
“Why don’t you check your church records? The answers are all there. I was born here, you know. 1935. Baptised in St. Mary’s before your time.”  
  
“What does that have to do with what’s going on right here, right now?” Sullivan shouted.  
  
The priest exchanged glances with the Sargent. “A very good question, Inspector. I believe I’ll have a look at those records. Good luck with the rest of your investigation.” Goodfellow gave him a short nod as he left the room.


	21. The Truth Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Incest, Implications of Rape, Child of Incest

Father Brown relayed Sloane’s odd remark to his friends. They gathered outside the station once Sid had managed to pry Amelia from beneath the desk. She was clinging to his and Leah’s hands. They agreed that Father Brown, Leah, and Sid would take Amelia to the church, while Mrs. McCarthy and Lady Felicia would stay at the station in case of any progress with Sloane.  
  
When they reached the church, Amelia finally and reluctantly loosened her grip from her two guardians. It seemed she felt safer in the snug, stone building, straying briefly from the group to gaze at the stained glass windows and icons along the wall.  
  
“Where do you even keep the baptismal records?” Leah asked.  
  
“I’m not sure,” her uncle frowned. “Perhaps we should have brought Mrs. McCarthy along.”  
  
“I think I’ve got something.” On the other side of the confessional, Sid pulled out an enormous ledger full of faded, yellow sheets. “Thought so. See, here I am.” Among the scores of infants and young children, Sid’s entry read: Sidney Cater, parents N/A, birthday May 8, 1922, baptised April 10, 1955, St. Mary’s Cathedral, Father John Brown.  
  
“That was one of the best days,” Leah smiled. Sid kissed the top of her head, then cleared his throat when he saw the Father’s “hurry along” nod. “So,” he said, “do we know where to look for this Sloane? He looks to be about twenty, but I don’t know about trying to find one person in all this.”  
  
“He gave me a year,” Father Brown pursed his lips. “He said 1935.”  
  
“1935….” Sid turned the delicate pages over until he reached the right year. Then he ran his fingers down the list of names. “Here it is. Ryan Sloane. Parents, Robert and Lucille Sloane. Birthday, October 17, 1935. Baptised October 20, 1935. Father Joseph Carlisle.”  
  
“But look!” Leah pointed just beneath the entry. “This must be a sister. Rachel Sloane. Born the same day to the same parents. A twin!”  
  
“Oh my.” Father Brown’s hands tightened around his umbrella.  
  
“What is it, Uncle?”  
  
“I’m afraid I’ve uncovered the answer to where Amelia came from.” The girl had wandered back to the small group, and the priest knelt before her. He wrapped her in a tight embrace. “My child. I am so very sorry.”  
  
Sid and Leah stared at the pair in confusion before realisation dawned in their eyes.  
  
“You mean? Her mum and her dad were….they were brother and sister?” Sid threw his hands in the air in disbelief.  
  
“Uncle, this doesn’t mean….I mean, can she still, be redeemed?”  
  
“Of course,” Father Brown stood abruptly. “The sins of our fathers are not our own. Amelia had no more ability to chose her entry into this world than any of us have. Our Lord will welcome her with open arms.”  
  
At that moment, the sound of shouting and boots crunching on the street surrounded the church.  
  
“What’s that?” Leah asked.  
  
“Nothing good you can bet,” Sid answered. “I’m going to check it out. You stay here.”  
  
Leah watched her husband slip out the church’s side door. “I’m going to go look through the far window, Uncle. Please keep an eye on Amelia.”  
  
He nodded and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder as his niece made her way behind the pulpit. “Come here, child.” Though he knew she could hear none of his comforts, he continued to speak to her, treating her as he would any member of his small family.  
  
As they sat in one of the rear pews, the sound of a door scraping open filled the cavernous room. Father Brown assumed it was Sid returning until another sound rang through the air: the click of a revolver hammer. He spun around, only to come face to face with Ryan Sloane.  
  
The Father remained calm, unwilling to upset the young girl beside him. “How did you escape?”  
  
“It was ridiculously simple. They had to release my cuffs to move me to the cell. That bungling Sargent went down like a log. Once I had his gun, it was easy to stroll right out. The whole force is out there scouring the town. Oh, and don’t worry about your lady friends. They took my spot in the cell.” As he spoke, Sloane crept forward until he was right behind them.  
  
Amelia still had no idea her father was in the room. She was flipping through the thin pages of a hymnal, her legs swinging merrily from the pew. At last, Sloane jumped forward. Before Father Brown could react, he had his arm around Amelia, dragging her over the pew into a tight grip.  
  
Her screams echoed through cathedral.  
  
The door slammed open with a resounding bang as Sid came running in. He quickly scanned the situation in the room and realised in a moment there was nothing he could do without endangering the girl. He held up his hands and joined the Father at a safe distance from the man with the gun.  
  
Leah also heard the screams. She quickly ran toward the church’s main hall, but froze when she saw the scene unfolding. Instead of charging forward, she ducked behind the pulpit.  
  
Sid’s eyes darted about, discreetly searching for his wife in the dim building. He spotted her over Sloane’s shoulder. When Leah noticed he had seen her, she tried to convey in simple motions the plan she had come up with. First, she pointed at Sid, then to Sloane. With the smallest movements possible, she mimed a pushing the man. Then she pointed at herself and the heavy candelabrum beside her. She made a swinging motion, her intent clear. Sid nodded. Thankfully, Father Brown was already doing his part: trying to redeem the man’s soul.  
  
“We figured out your little clue, Mr. Sloane. You are both Amelia’s father and her uncle.” Father Brown paused. “How did it start? Between you and your sister?”  
  
Sloane sneered. “Since we were kids. She wanted it too. Came begging for it. When she got pregnant though, that’s when she ran.”  
  
“You must have been still been children yourselves. I imagine it was a terrifying time for you both.”  
  
“I wanted to raise the kid! She stole her from me and she tried to stop me from taking her when I finally tracked them down.”  
  
“So you murdered her? Your own sister and the mother of your child? Didn’t you even think about what it would be like for Amelia to live without her?” Father Brown studied the glint in the man’s eye. “Or do you even care?” The gun wavered only slightly. “I know what you meant now, Mr. Sloane, thinking of yourself as the devil. But even he is redeemable if only he would confess and surrender to God’s grace.”  
  
“Don’t you get it, old man?” Sloane shouted. “I don’t want to confess. I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done.”  
  
“As if the sin of incest wasn’t enough, you took the life of another human being. The power of life and death is a privilege that belongs only to God.”  
  
While the two conversed, Leah made her way through the maze of pews. She had slipped out of her heels to make a noiseless trek across the stone floor. With her, she carried the candelabrum, carefully lifted from its place to avoid a scraping sound. She approached Sloane from the rear.  
  
Without warning, Sid rushed forward. He simultaneously grabbed Amelia and shoved Sloane’s arm upward. The gun went off, lodging a bullet in a wooden beam above their heads. As soon as the man was off balance, Leah lunged toward him, bringing the candelabrum down as hard as she could. He crumpled to the ground, a sticky, shiny pool of blood gathering beneath his head.  
  
Leah raised the candelabrum again. Her face was contorted in anger, ready to strike again.  
  
“Leah, stop this!” Father Brown admonished. “Let the law deal with him.”  
  
“He doesn’t deserve the luxury of a trial.” Tears streamed down her face. “After what he did to Amelia. To his sister. Hanging is too good for him.”  
  
“That’s not for you to decide.” A tense moment filled the air, as her family watched Leah tremble, deciding her next action. Finally, her uncle said, “Do you think, after everything she’s been through, Amelia should see her father bludgeoned to death?”  
  
The candelabrum clattered to the floor and Sid ran to catch his wife as she collapsed in a flood of tears.


	22. And Amelia Makes Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this started as a brief overview to bridge two chapters. It turned into a bit of a monster. Hope it's still enjoyable :)

Ryan Sloane was in custody by the end of the day. Thanks to careful steps by Inspector Sullivan, Amelia’s real name was kept out of court proceedings, preserving her reputation in the community. Once Sloane’s trial was over, however, the battle over Amelia’s future began. The state hesitated to step in, knowing a deaf child would be almost impossible to place. The Church also backed away from its charitable responsibilities, fearful of a child of incest. Meanwhile, she continued living with the Carters.

  
  


In early September, Leah and Sid were laying in bed, relaxing before going to sleep. Sid was paging through a copy of the new American magazine, “Sports Illustrated.” Leah had a novel on her lap, but she was only skimming the pages. Something else was on her mind. Finally, she set the book aside. “Sid, dear, I have a question.”  
  
“What is it, darlin’?”  
  
She pulled the magazine away and crawled into his lap. “Do you like having Amelia around?”  
  
“Of course I do.” His brows furrowed in confusion.  
  
She ran her fingers across his chest. “Well, my uncle was telling me that they’re having trouble finding a place for her. And I was thinking –”  
  
“Wait, hang on.” He gently grasped her wrist. “You mean someone other than us could end up with her?”  
  
It was Leah’s turn to be confused. “Well, yes, but –”  
  
“No way. That girl is part of our family. I know it’ll be difficult since we don’t know anything about being deaf or even about kids, really, but she’s not going anywhere.”  
  
Leah blinked in surprise, then burst out laughing. “Sid, honey. I had a whole speech prepared to convince you to let us keep her.”  
  
He laughed too. “You didn’t need that. I love her as much as you.”  
  
“Are you sure you don’t need convincing?” Leah leaned in, brushing her lips against his collar-bone.  
  
“Well, uh, maybe a little more wouldn’t hurt.” He shifted forward, pulling his wife into a deep kiss. Suddenly the door slammed open, admitting a bouncing, smiling Amelia. Leah quickly slid from Sid’s lap, pulling the duvet over them both.  
  
“Amelia, sweetie….” Leah sighed, remembering their communication barrier. Then she smiled and motioned the girl to her side. She was clutching a piece of paper in her small hand and climbed on the bed, eager to show off her work. On the paper was a crayon drawing. A tall, spindly man held the hand of a short, black-haired woman. Beside them was a little girl with two stick-straight yellow braids.  
  
Leah tried to hide her tears as she hugged the girl tightly to her side. When she glanced at her husband, she saw him wipe quickly at his eyes. Their new family was complete.

  
  


When Sid and Leah announced their intentions, Father Brown and Inspector Sullivan pulled a few strings in their respective departments. With little resistance, they were able to have Amelia legally named a Carter. Even before the legalities were settled, though, Sid and Leah discovered that life as parents would be tougher than they thought.  
  
They quickly realised that, through no fault of her own, Amelia had no communication skills beyond miming and her crude, but plentiful, drawings. They knew that at this level, she would never be able to integrate into the classrooms of Kembleford’s small primary school. In order to catch her up to her age group, the couple set about first trying to teach their daughter to write.  
  
This presented its own challenges, as Amelia knew none of the sounds the letters made. Eventually, she began to recognise the symbols on the pages as having concrete meaning. M-U-M-M-Y was Leah. D-A-D-D-Y was Sid.  
  
Father Brown, Mrs. McCarthy, and Lady Felicia had been named joint god-parents of the girl and immediately took to their job. They threw themselves into helping the young girl with her lessons. In turn, they learned from her, deciphering her excited motions and range of facial expressions.  
  
Still, Sid and Leah worried about their new daughter. Without school to occupy her days, Amelia accompanied Leah to the sweets shop in the morning, where she coloured on the floor behind the counter. In the afternoons her uncle would pick her up to finish the day in the presbytery with Mrs. McCarthy and Lady Felicia. They all agreed she needed more structure in her life.

  
  


Amelia’s six month anniversary with her new family landed on the day Sid and Leah celebrated three years of marriage. A party was held at their cottage for their close-knit family.  
  
While Father Brown demonstrated to his young niece a lively version of a waltz, Felicia approached her friends. Dark circles showed under Leah’s eyes despite her makeup and the lines on Sid’s face looked deeper than ever before. “How are you two holding up?” she asked in a soft voice.  
  
“We’re getting along,” Sid placed his hand on his wife’s arm.  
  
Leah agreed. “She’s come so far. I just wish we could give her more.”  
  
Felicia leaned forward. “I’ve been reaching out to some of my contacts in London. One of them knows the headmaster of a school in Exeter.” She handed them a pamphlet with the title “Exeter Deaf Academy.”  
  
Sid spread it open. “This is a boarding school.”  
  
“Only during the week. She could get on the train Friday afternoon and not have to leave until Sunday evening.” Seeing their hesitation, Felicia continued. “You both are doing so well, but think of how much further she can go. British Sign Language is practically a foreign language. It can be difficult to learn without proper instruction.”  
  
Leah glanced over at the smiling, dancing girl. “I just don’t know….”  
  
Felicia smiled. “You don’t have to decide right now. Just think about it.”  
  
After cake and tea, Amelia was given presents by her doting god-parents. Felicia tapped into the girl’s artistic inclinations with an extensive array of painting supplies. Mrs. McCarthy had brought a miniature set of cooking utensils, and her uncle presented her with her own magnifying glass. From her parents she received a medal matching their own, this one engraved with the image of St. Francis de Sales, patron of the deaf. She was a very happy girl when they put her down for the night.  
  
Leah took her time dressing down for bed that night.  
  
“What are you thinking about, darlin’?” Sid leaned over to kiss the nape of her neck.  
  
She sighed. “That school in Exeter. I know it would be good for Amelia, but ….”  
  
“But you don’t want to let her go. I know. I’ve been thinking about it too.”  
  
Leah turned in her husband’s arms. “We just got her. Kids are supposed to stay at home until they’re grown.”  
  
“I know, I know,” he stroked her hair. “But when we took her in, we promised to do right by her. And this sounds like a great opportunity.”  
  
She huffed. “I know. I’ll eventually give in I suppose, but I’m going to be stubborn at the moment.”  
  
“I know something that might ease your mind.” Sid leaned over and pulled a cardboard box from under the bed. “Happy Leather-Anniversary.”  
  
“Oh Sid, how sweet.” Leah pulled out a pair of black, yellow-tipped patent leather heels. “Oh my goodness! How did you remember I wanted these?”  
  
“I’m not completely clueless.” He kissed her brow.  
  
“Well, here. I didn’t forget either.” She handed him a colourfully wrapped package from the dresser drawer.  
  
“Woowee,” Sid whistled as he unwrapped a handsome leather-bound shaving kit.  
  
“You needed an update on your old crummy one.” She kissed him. “And I think you’re right. I’m convinced that this will be the best path for Amelia.”  
  
He patted her leg. “We’ll go check it out this week.”

  
  


The school was everything Leah had hoped it wouldn’t be – perfect. Presented with the kind, knowledgeable teachers and beautiful grounds, both Carters had to finally admit that it was the perfect place for their daughter.


	23. A Happy Announcement

At Christmas that year, Leah surprised her family with the best gift possible: the announcement of her pregnancy. Sid was ecstatic. Though Amelia didn’t completely grasp the concept that she would soon have a baby sibling, she knew her parents were extremely happy and that made her happy.  
  
The pregnancy progressed as normally as any other. Leah suffered the same morning sickness and body pains as every mother had experienced since the dawn of time. Sid did his best to be supportive. When she was far enough along, he took over duties in the shop. It was a struggle to maintain the three jobs in order to keep his growing family comfortable. Finally, Lady Felicia convinced him to allow her to continue paying his wages while giving him the time off he so desperately needed.  
  
Near the end of her final month, the only place Leah went out to was church on Sunday mornings. After Mass one Sunday, she stayed talking to Lady Felicia while Amelia ran around the graveyard with other children. Sid and Mrs. McCarthy were conversing nearby.  
  
A new member had joined the congregation that morning and she sauntered through the crowd toward Sid. In a tight red pencil skirt and thin stiletto heels her hips had no choice but to swing seductively as she walked. Mrs. McCarthy’s disapproving stare sealed an unsavoury reputation. “Claire Gayle.” She extended a velvet-gloved hand.  
  
“Sid Carter,” he returned the handshake. “This is Mrs. McCarthy, our parish secretary.”  
  
“Nice to meet you both. I’m new here in Kembleford. Anything you can recommend for fun?”  
  
“Young lady,” Mrs. McCarthy bristled, “I can’t imagine what you mean. Kembleford is a nice, quiet town. If you want fun and nightlife, I suggest you head back to London.” She marched away, heading to collect her god-daughter.  
  
Sid chuckled. “Sorry ‘bout her. Mrs. M’s a bit old-fashioned. But uh, she’s not too far wrong. ‘Bout the only place here for even a drink is the Red Lion.”  
  
Claire leaned in and ran a finger down his arm. “You wouldn’t want to show me the way, would you?”  
  
He quirked a brow and checked his watch. “My wife and I have to take our daughter to the station later.”  
  
“Oh. I see. Maybe later then.” She turned and swayed her way down the road, a smug smile on her face as she felt Sid’s eyes on her retreating figure.  
  
“Ahem. Sid?” Leah cleared her throat behind her husband.  
  
“Hm? What?” He turned to find his wife holding their daughter’s hand.  
  
Leah dropped Amelia’s hand and signed along with her words. “Did you forget that Felicia invited us over for lunch? We have to leave now if we want to make it back in time for Amelia’s train.”  
  
Sid smiled and signed before taking his daughter’s free hand. “Of course I didn’t forget. Lead the way, ladies.”

  
  


Later that week, Sid was manning the shop when Father Brown and Mrs. McCarthy stopped by for a visit.  
  
“Good morning,” the Father smiled at his nephew. “How’s our little mother doing?”  
  
Sid made a noise between a sigh and a groan. “Father, if she doesn’t deliver soon, I think we’re both going to go mad.”  
  
“Ah, yes,” he smiled and adjusted his spectacles.  
  
“Perhaps we should bring a treat for her?” Mrs. McCarthy asked.  
  
“Only if you tell her it’s from me too,” Sid laughed and handed them a package of chocolate-coated biscuits.  
  
At that moment the bell above the door rang its cheery tune to announce a visitor. Claire Gayle strutted her way into the shop.  
  
“Ah, Miss Gayle. Pleasure to see you again.” Father Brown greeted her.  
  
“Father,” she nodded. Then she nearly purred, “Mr. Carter.”  
  
Mrs. McCarthy huffed under her breath, “And what am I? Chopped liver?”  
  
“Sid, darling,” Claire leaned over the counter, her breasts straining against the bodice of her bright new mini dress, “I’m in the mood for something scrumptious today. What do you recommend?”  
  
The three exchanged surprised glances.  
  
“Um, well, there’s a jar of pear drops over there,” Sid pointed to the counter on the opposite end of the shop, “and these Aero bars are always popular with the kids.”  
  
“Hm. I think I’ll have some pear drops. I love to have something sweet to suck on in the afternoons.”  
  
Raised brows circled the room again. Sid nodded and filled a small paper bag with her order. After she dropped the change in his hand, Claire popped one of the sugar-coated treats in her mouth. “Thanks, sweetie. And send my regards to your dear little wife.” She winked and headed out the door.  
  
“Well! Of all the nerve!” Mrs. McCarthy huffed. “Who does she think she is, sashaying around town like that?”  
  
“Now, now, Mrs. M,” the Father admonished, “it’s not our place to judge.”


	24. In the Teeth of a Gayle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- So sorry for the delay with this chapter. I've been out of town recently. This storyline is looking like the last "big case" I have in store for our Cotswold Crew. Definitely expect a few more chapters though before what will be a (hopefully) satisfying ending.  
\- There's been a change in chapter title. The first was too boring, lol.

Mrs. McCarthy of course agreed with Father Brown’s policy of not judging….in theory. Putting it into practice, however, was an entirely different prospect. Besides, as parish secretary, it was practically her duty to follow up on members of the congregation. And perhaps it was merely coincidence that she happened to end up in the same places as Claire Gayle as she went about her errands.  
  
That’s how Mrs. McCarthy happened to be visiting the florist’s on Main Street just was Claire was emerging from the bakery down the street. Across the road, Sid was locking up the shop for the evening.  
  
Claire glanced his way, then strode to the end of the wooden walkway lining the row of shops. With a dramatic cry, she tripped over the steps, contorting her leg as she fell. “Oh dear! Can somebody help me?”  
  
Mrs. McCarthy rolled her eyes at the amateur acting. Sid though, hadn’t seen the fall, but heard the loud cry. He rushed down the street toward the prone woman. “Miss Gayle! Are you alright?”  
  
“Ooh,” she moaned. “I don’t think I am. It feels like a sprain.”  
  
“Do you think you can stand?”  
  
She strained upward. “No, I don’t think I can. Perhaps you could assist me? My cottage is just around the corner.”  
  
Sid glanced around. With Mrs. McCarthy hidden behind the display of peonies, no one was in sight. He sighed. “Fine. Grab my shoulder.”  
  
She reached up, eagerly latching on to his body as he lifted her from the ground. Sid tried to keep his eyes up and away from her painted face and ample bosom. In that awkward position he toted her down the street while Mrs. McCarthy scurried in the opposite direction.  
  
“Just over here,” Claire pointed toward a small, ivy-covered cottage.  
  
Sid awkwardly bent to the doorknob while still cradling his voluptuous burden. “Well, here we are.” He deposited her on a dusty settee and set his hands on his hips as he took in the room around them. Most of the furniture was still covered in white drapes. Dust coated the mantle, side table, and almost every other surface. A window near the corner had just been relieved of it’s boarding, the hammer and nails resting nearby. “Not much of a housekeeper?”  
  
“Oh, this,” she waved a careless hand, “I spend so much time out I just haven’t bother unpacking yet. I should probably look into a maid. Do you know anyone?”  
  
“’Fraid not,” he shrugged. “Well, I best head on my way.”  
  
“Oh, wait just a moment. Will you grab a pillow for my foot?”  
  
“I’ve got to head home to my wife,” he mumbled as he reached for a threadbare pillow.  
  
Claire made no acknowledgement of his comment, however. As he bent over her leg, she reached out, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and yanked him close. Her lips closed on his before he had time to react. When his mind caught up with events, he jerked back, shoving the woman’s shoulders away from himself. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth and pointed at Claire, who had a smug smile. “You crazy bitch! You stay away from me and from my family! If I ever see you again I’ll….” he choked back his anger, “Just stay away!” The door slammed in his wake.

  
  


Across town, Mrs. McCarthy made her way to the Carter cottage. Leah and Lady Felicia were in the kitchen in the rear of the house, taking tea. She bustled in, joined them at the table, pouring herself a hot cuppa. She sighed, then announced. “Well, I never thought I’d see the day.”  
  
Felicia and Leah exchanged glances. “Well? Let us in on it.” Felicia prodded.  
  
“Our Sid. I saw him just a little while ago, and who do you think he was carrying off like some kind of, knight in shining armour?” Felicia and Leah’s faces grew even more puzzled. Mrs. McCarthy didn’t wait for them to respond, though, answering her own question. “That hussy, Claire Gayle, that’s who!”  
  
“Mrs. McCarthy,” Felicia laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “are you trying to tell us that Sid was doing a good deed?”  
  
“A good deed? I said he was carrying her, didn’t I? And not in the direction of the hospital.”  
  
“What are you insinuating?” Leah frowned and rubbed her distended womb.  
  
“That that woman has had her eyes on Sid from her first day in town.”  
  
Felicia scoffed. “That doesn’t mean anything! It isn’t as though he’s over there committing adultery as we speak.”  
  
“That’s right!” Leah exclaimed. “I trust Sid with my whole heart. He would never throw away our marriage over anyone or anything. Not to mention our children.”  
  
“Of course,” Felicia agreed with a firm nod.  
  
“There is one way to find out for certain, of course,” Mrs. McCarthy raised her brows over the rim of her cup.  
  
“What are you suggesting?”  
  
“We can go over to that woman’s house right now. Even if Sid’s not there, we can ask her what she means by sniffing around Kembleford like a, like a bloodhound.”  
  
“What do you mean ‘if’ he’s not there?” Leah cried. “Of course he won’t be there!”  
  
There was a tense silence, before Felicia shifted in her seat. She glanced at the clock. “I do hate to mention it, dear, but if he isn’t home yet, then where is he? The shop should have closed over an hour ago.”  
  
“I don’t know where he is,” Leah said with a forced calm, “but I know he’s not with her.”  
  
“I still say we should go speak to her,” Mrs. McCarthy huffed.  
  
“Fine!” Lady Felicia stood abruptly. “Let’s go talk to this Gayle woman and get it over with. Mrs. M, your curiosity will be satisfied, and Leah, you’ll have proved Sid’s loyalty. Now come on, the both of you.”  
  
The women agreed, and the three of them made their way through the gathering darkness into town. Though Claire Gayle’s home was on the other side of the village, they made good time winding through the back streets. When they arrived at the cottage, the windows were dark and the door stood ajar.  
  
“Should we go in?” Leah asked with trepidation.  
  
“Well, the door’s open, isn’t?” Mrs. McCarthy strode forward, shoving the door wide open. She flicked the light switch on the wall. As soon as the room was illuminated, Lady Felcia’s blood-curdling scream rent the air.  
  
On the room’s stiff, formal settee, Claire Gayle laid in a relaxed pose, foot resting gently on a pillow. Beside her was a hammer, soaked in blood, and in the centre of her temple was a crater smashed through her skull.


	25. Lies and Murder

“So you three just happened to be in the neighbourhood when you discovered Miss Gayle’s body?” Inspector Sullivan studied the three women over his notebook.  
  
“We were out for a walk,” Mrs. McCarthy answered. “There’s no crime against that.”  
  
“In her condition?” He gestured at Leah who was sitting on a bench while Sargent Goodfellow offered her a glass of water. “I’m surprised her husband’s not watching her like a hawk.”  
  
“She’s having a baby, not planning a prison escape,” Lady Felicia rolled her eyes.  
  
“And you didn’t see anyone leaving the area?”  
  
Before they could answer, a loud shout came from the knot of onlookers that had gathered. “Leah! Leah!” Sid and Father Brown crashed through the crowd. “Thank God you’re okay.” Her husband and uncle knelt by her side.  
  
“I’m fine. But that poor woman,” she shuddered.  
  
“What happened, dear?” Father Brown asked.  
  
“I have no idea. We just….we were out walking. And this woman, Miss Gayle, her door was open, and….” she leaned into her husband’s shoulder, not noticing as the colour drained from his face.  
  
Inspector Sullivan rapped his pencil on Sid’s hat. “Convenient of you to show up, Mr. Carter. Where have you been?”  
  
“Not that it’s your business, but I went for a walk after closing up the shop.”  
  
“What about you, Father?”  
  
The priest frowned. “I was writing my homily all day, until Sid showed up. We talked for a bit.”  
  
“About what?” the Inspector readied his pencil.  
  
Father Brown smiled. “Now, Inspector. You know I can’t break the seal of the confessional.”  
  
He rolled his eyes. “So a woman’s head is bashed in and nobody saw anything, nobody heard anything, nobody knows anything.”  
  
“That about sums it up, Inspector,” Lady Felicia smiled smugly.  
  
He pushed his hat back on his brow. “Fine. You can all go for now. But don’t think this is over,” Sullivan shook a finger at Sid. “I’d have you in a cell already if it wasn’t for the missus.”  
  
Lady Felicia huffed. “Oh please, Inspector. Sid hasn’t crossed the law in years, and he’s not going to go back to being your scapegoat.”  
  
The Inspector waved them away, and Goodfellow set about dispersing the small crowd. As the families made their way back to warm, well-lit houses however, Mrs. McCarthy lingered near the Inspector.

  
  


Sid rushed ahead of Leah into their home, clicking the gas stove on and pouring water for tea. “Sit down, darlin’,” he helped her into the plush armchair in front of the fireplace. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I should’ve come straight home from work.”  
  
Leah cradled her stomach for a moment. Then, staring at the hearth, she asked, “Where were you? Really?”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
She met his eye. “You and I both know you weren’t out walking. I know you weren’t with that woman, but why won’t you tell me where you really were?”  
  
Sid dropped into the wingback across from her. He buried his head in his hands and sighed heavily before looking up again. “I was with her.”  
  
Leah gasped and bent over, clutching her stomach even tighter.  
  
“Wait, wait, it’s not like you think,” he quickly knelt and took his wife’s hands into his own. “Nothing happened. She fell in the street and conned me into taking her home. I know I shouldn’t have, but….I guess I deserved what happened next. She, she tried to kiss me.” He gazed into her eyes, begging her to believe. “Leah, I swear, I’ve never wanted to hit a woman any more in my entire life. But I didn’t. It wasn’t me that killed her.”  
  
Leah broke down into sobs. All Sid could do was hold her hands and whisper soothing words. When she finally caught her breath, she wiped her tears and dabbed her runny nose with her handkerchief. “Sid, dear, I believe you. I always have. But now, the Inspector, what if he thinks….what if he finds something?”  
  
“He won’t. I promise.” He kissed her hands. “Now we need to get you to bed.” Sid led her up the stairs, then retrieved her cup of tea while she dressed down.  
  
“Don’t worry,” he kissed the top of her head and handed her the cup. “Everything will be alright. This’ll blow over, then before you know it, we’ll have a brand new baby.”  
  
Leah smiled and sighed. “I hope so. I’m ready for this son of yours to be out.”  
  
“You think it’ll be a boy?”  
  
She shrugged. “Just a feeling.

  
  


The Carters slept soundly that night, until a knock came in the early morning hours.  
  
“Sid. Sid,” Leah poked her husband. “There’s someone at the door.”  
  
Sid rolled over. “Mmm. I’ll go check.” He stretched, shrugged a vest on, and strolled to the window overlooking their lawn. Immediately, his spine stiffened and he was wide awake.  
  
Leah noticed the change in her husband. “Sid? What’s wrong?”  
  
He pulled on a pair of trousers and rushed to the door. “Stay here.”  
  
She ignored him, grabbing the dressing gown beside the bed and following him down the stairs. The door creaked opened and she heard the Inspector’s voice. “Carter. I need you to come down to the station and answer some questions.”  
  
“What about?”  
  
Sullivan peered over Sid’s shoulder. “About the Gayle murder case.”  
  
“I don’t know anything about that, Inspector,” Sid crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve a nice warm bed and wife waiting for me upstairs.”  
  
“Sid,” Sullivan blocked the closing door, “don’t make me arrest you, son.”  
  
He glanced back at Leah hovering in the stairwell. Then he nodded at the Inspector. “Let’s go.”


	26. Secrets and Lies

“Uncle! Uncle!” Leah rushed into the presbytery kitchen.  
  
“Good Lord!” Lady Felicia stood abruptly. “What are you doing running about? Here, have a seat.” She proffered her chair to the expectant woman and poured a cup of tea.  
  
“What’s the matter, dear?” Father Brown placed a hand on hers.  
  
“It’s Sid. The Inspector came this morning and took him to the station. He thinks he has something to do with that awful murder.”  
  
“But how could he suspect him?” Felicia was incredulous. “No one knew about him being there except you, me, and….”  
  
Mrs. McCarthy bustled through the door at that moment, shoving her gloves into her handbag. She froze when she noticed all eyes on her. “Well what are you all ogling at? You’d think I was some kind of, of foreigner.”  
  
“Mrs. McCarthy,” Father Brown stood and placed his hands behind his back, “what did you say to the Inspector last night?”  
  
She bristled. “Well, I just told him what I knew about Sid’s recent….activities. I thought he should have all the facts for his investigation.”  
  
“And what would those facts be? From everything I’ve heard, Sid was simply being a gentlemen to a stranger in town. How is that pertinent to any investigation?”  
  
She only hung her head.  
  
Father Brown turned to the other women. “Leah, why don’t you go sit with Sid? And try to find out whatever it is the Inspector thinks he knows. Lady Felicia will accompany me to the crime scene.”  
  
“And what about me?” Mrs. McCarthy exclaimed.  
  
“Perhaps you should stay here. Field phone calls.”  
  
No one said a word as they filed out.

  
  


When Leah reached the station, Sargent Goodfellow greeted her with a smile. “How are you this morning, Mrs. Carter?”  
  
“Not well,” she returned his kind smile. “May I see my husband?”  
  
He pulled the key from his pocket. “Sure thing. Awful what’s happened. If it helps any, I know Sid isn’t involved with that woman.”  
  
“What else do you happen to know about her? All I know is her name.” When the Sargent glanced around, she placed a hand on his arm. “I’m just worried about Sid.”  
  
He sighed. “Well, all we know so far is that she came to town a few weeks ago. Don’t know where she was before that which means she was probably using an alias.”  
  
“Thank you, Sargent,” Leah kissed his cheek, then entered the cell as it swung open.  
  
“Leah darlin’,” Sid leapt to his feet. “You shouldn’t be here.”  
  
“Uncle sent me. And I wanted to be here. You shouldn’t be alone.”  
  
“And you shouldn’t be in a cold, damp cell! Think about the baby.”  
  
“I’ll be fine.” She sat on the hard bench and patted the space beside her. “You can help keep us warm.” Once he was seated, she leaned in, placing her head on his shoulder so that anyone who looked in would see just a husband and wife consoling each other. But her head was turned just enough to whisper in his ear. “What does the Inspector know so far?”  
  
“Only what that nosy Mrs. M told him. That no-good –”  
  
“Sid!”  
  
“Well, she told him she’s seen me with Miss Gayle over the last couple of days. Since she hasn’t been seen with anyone else, I guess that makes me suspect number one.”  
  
“Don’t you worry,” Leah clasped his hand. “Uncle and Lady F are at that woman’s house right now. They’ll clear you.”

  
  


A small warning sign pinned to the door was the only obstacle to Father Brown and Lady Felicia’s entry into Claire Gayle’s house. The door was unlocked, leaving Father Brown’s lock pick set securely hidden in his cassock.  
  
“Clearly cleaning was not one of Miss Gayle’s hobbies,” Lady Felicia tip-toed through the dusty front room.  
  
“Hmm. Yes.” Father Brown peered about. “Which makes me wonder what she did spend her time doing.”  
  
“Well, stalking Sid, from all accounts.”  
  
The priest frowned. “Hasn’t she been seen with anyone else?”  
  
“Not that I’m aware.”  
  
“Then, why Sid? Did she just happen to run into him? Or was he some sort of target?”  
  
Felicia wiped a gloved hand on the railing, then said, “Perhaps we should check upstairs, Father.”  
  
“Lead the way,” he gestured.  
  
The stairway led to a small landing that opened onto two rooms. The first was piled with boxes and canvas draped furniture. The second was obviously the bedroom. It’s contrast with the rest of the house was startling.  
  
A magnificent canopy bed took up the centre of the room. On the side tables stood ornate boxes open to reveal strings of jewels and glittering rings. Lady Felicia moved to the closet which was bursting at the seams with furs, silk gowns, and ornate, French designer hats. “Whatever she was up to, it paid well,” Felicia ran her hands over the ruffled frocks.  
  
“Indeed.” Father Brown moved to the dresser and began rifling through its drawers. In the top one, resting on an assortment of lingerie, was a photo. It showed the woman beside a man in a uniform. The priest tucked it in his pocket. He debated rifling through the rest of the lacey garments, but saw the corner of a leather book near the bottom. He delicately pulled it out. “Lady Felicia,” Father Brown announced when he had leafed through the book, “I believe it’s time to return to the bank.”


	27. A Face from the Past

“Good afternoon, Mr. Anderson,” Father Brown greeted the bank clerk with a smile. “If you have a few moments, we have some questions about a client.”  
  
Patrick Anderson smiled at the priest. “Of course, Father. I’ll be with you in a moment.” He motioned for another teller to take his place, then joined Father Brown and Lady Felicia in a private corner of the building. “What can I help you with?”  
  
“We found this account book in the home of Miss Claire Gayle.”  
  
“Ah, yes. I heard about the incident. Devilish business.” He glanced through the book. “We don’t usually disclose information about our clients, but seeing as the poor girl has, well, passed….come this way.”  
  
Anderson led them to a small office and motioned to a few chairs before a large desk. “Let’s see. It looks like Miss Gayle recieved several large deposits during her time here. From a Mrs. Jones in London. There were several withdrawals as well, but plenty left it seems.”  
  
“Did you say Mrs. Jones?” Lady Felicia leaned forward. “Wasn’t there a Jones as a manager here?”  
  
“Well, yes,” Anderson answered. “Miles Jones. He was manager for a few years before the Father here caught on to his embezzling.”  
  
Father Brown frowned. “Whatever happened to him?”  
  
“I’m afraid he caught pneumonia in prison, and well, he won’t be returning to his position.”  
  
“Is she his wife? This Mrs. Jones?” The Father asked.  
  
Anderson flipped through the pages of the book. “I don’t see….oh, here we are.” His eyes grew wide in surprise. “It is her. Mrs. Jane Jones.”  
  
“What on earth was the wife of the bank manager doing paying off a hussy like that?” Felicia was incredulous.  
  
“There’s an address in here,” Anderson replied, “but it’s in London.”  
  
Father Brown’s brow furrowed. “Does it say where the money was sent from?”  
  
Anderson sighed. “The woman’s account is listed in London, but the money could have been sent from almost anywhere.”  
  
“Well, thank you, Mr. Anderson,” the Father stood and shook the man’s hand.  
  
“I’m sorry I couldn’t have been of more help,” he replied.

  
  


When they had exited the bank, Lady Felicia clasped her handbag and sighed. “Now what?”  
  
“Let’s say Mrs. Jones did come to town to keep an eye on Miss Gayle for some reason. If you were new in town,” Father Brown speculated, “where would you go?”  
  
“Well, I know where I would go, but assuming one couldn’t afford the Gainsborough in Bath, I suppose….the Red Lion.”  
  
“Then that’s our next destination.”

  
  


Lady Felicia trailed behind the Father as he made his way confidently through the smoky atmosphere of the pub.  
  
“Father! Welcome!” The ruddy-faced man behind the bar greeted the priest warmly. “What can I get for you?”  
  
“Hello, Bob. We’re looking for some information, actually.” Father Brown smiled and nodded at the beer the man slid into his waiting hand. “Have you had any new guests recently?”  
  
Bob considered this. “Can’t say that I have.”  
  
“Well, this woman would have come here a while ago if she was keeping track of Miss Gayle,” Felicia reminded the Father.  
  
“You’re right. Any long term guests, Bob?”  
  
“As a matter of fact, there is one. An older woman. Mrs. Smith.”  
  
“An alias of course,” Father Brown mused. “What room was she staying in?”  
  
“You know I always respect the privacy of my clients,” Bob drawled as he casually reached for the key beneath the number three hook on the wall. “Now, I’m going to be busy cleaning behind this bar here, so you two make yourselves scarce.”  
  
Father Brown touched the tip of his broad-brimmed hat and took the last swallow of his beer. Having slid the key surreptitiously into his cassock, he and Lady Felicia slowly strolled toward the stairway in the back of the building. Felicia’s glossy stiletto was already on the first step when Bob called out, “Oi! Father! There she is!”  
  
The friends spun around just in time to see a grey frock fluttering through the doorway.  
  
“After her!”


End file.
